


Forming A Family

by oly_chic



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Multi, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, multiple mpreg, prowl/tarantulas (one-sided), some canon accuracy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: Prowl learns he’s accidentally sparked by the Constructicons, and then learns he accidentally sparked Jazz before that.
Relationships: Constructicons/Jazz/Prowl (Transformers), Constructicons/Prowl, Jazz/Prowl (Transformers)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Transformers.
> 
> Time is still in orns because I stopped using “cycle” a while ago because the word is too multifunctional. 
> 
> ::Word:: = Comm speak  
> ~Word~ = Bond speak
> 
> NOTE ABOUT CHAPTERS 1-3: The first two chapters are smut but there’s not so much smut after that, which is why I’m posting the first three chapters together in case readers want the story but skip the smut.
> 
> TIMELINE: This starts after Dark Cybertron. Enough time has passed for Megatron’s trial preparations that the seven of them have fallen into a rhythm, with Prowl accepting the Constructicons and Prowl and Jazz being a couple. I know canon implies that it took a few weeks for trial prep, but we’re going with the equivalent of it being a few months at the start of chapter one, which occurs as the trial draws near. As far as canon accuracy goes, this diverges from some things and keeps others.
> 
> WHO’S WEARING WHAT: If you compare MTMTE “6 months ago” section (Megatron’s trial) and RID “1 month ago” (Megatron’s post-trial), you’ll see they are inconsistent on Prowl’s body. I’m going with MTMTE’s body for Prowl (has doorwings/sensory panels). Jazz’s body shown in RID’s “Dawn of the Autobots” flashbacks to post-trial is his WFC/FOC body.
> 
> LASTLY, IS PROWL GOING CRAZY LIKE HE DOES IN RID? Prowl won’t be unstable in here like he was in the comics because he hasn’t combined enough with the Constructicons to start deteriorating. At this point they’ve only combined once of Prowl’s free will, in Dark Cybertron.

“Wow, that trial’s making you tense,” Jazz mouthed into Prowl’s kiss as he hands held onto Prowl by his tight shoulders. They were in Prowl’s quarters and wasting no time refamiliarizing with each other’s frame after a few orns separated because of Prowl’s trial prep work.

Prowl nipped at Jazz’s low lip. “It hasn’t even started yet, but even I’m feeling a bit too wanting to discuss work.”

“Right on,” Jazz grinned as he pressed for another kiss.

The tactician-turned-prosecutor wrapped his arms around Jazz’s torso and tugged them sideways towards his berth. They stumbled, more in-tune with each other’s body than the path to the berth. When they made it to the berth, their legs knocked into it and Jazz used the moment to twist Prowl down to lie onto the berth.

With a nip to Prowl’s lips, Jazz dragged his hands down Prowl’s body as he slipped down to place his face by Prowl’s lap. Prowl sat up and released his spike, to which Jazz licked his spike as it was pressurizing. He groaned as the last of his spike pressurized straight into Jazz’s waiting mouth, who then bobbed his helm until his lips met the base spike housing. Prowl gasped words of encouragement as his red biolights on his white-and-black spike disappeared in Jazz’s talented mouth.

Meanwhile, as Jazz sucked him, Prowl felt Jazz’s hand rub the underside of his spike’s base housing, near where his covered anterior node was located. The small spot between the base spike housing and his anterior node was sensitive, and he shivered under Jazz’s tender rubbing of the region. It was enough to be ghosting his node as the upper regions of his nerves were stimulated.

“Jazz…” he groaned. “Don’t toy… too long.”

A chuckled reverberated around his spike and then he pulled back to talk between firm licks. “Been long, Prowl? It’s only been half a deca-orn.”

A lot of effort went into concentrating to finish his thought. “A half a deca-orn since you fragged me; it’s been nearly a deca-orn since you’ve sucked me while touching that region.”

“Ah yes, my mistake. Here I thought someone as active as you was never left wanting.”

Prowl knew Jazz meant between their interfacing life and Prowl’s interfacing life with his gestalt. The latter they never talked much in length about, even though Jazz and the Constructicons had come to an understanding in the recent deca-orns.

He growled; his voice was filled with lust. “No one knows that spot like you do.”

“Good, I like knowing your secrets,” Jazz smirked before swallowing Prowl’s spike in one swift go. He slowly backed off in with several quick bobbing motions, and then moved so his body rubbed Prowl’s spike as he came up for another kiss. “Lie down.”

“I thought the rule was the one with the spike ready for use got to call the shots,” Prowl said with a raised optic ridge, doing as he was told.

“So I’m in a mood, big deal,” Jazz said with a shrug as he rearranged himself above Prowl. His knees were by Prowl’s hips, and his hands rubbed each sensory panel as they slipped along the plating to the nearest top edges. Prowl shivered and used his hands to play with Jazz’s torso seams. If they were behaving less like interface-starved mechlings he would take the time to get toys, but Prowl was more eager to feel Jazz. It seemed the ex-saboteur had a slightly different mindset, however, and was dragging it out by caressing his sensory panels.

Prowl’s hands moved along the middle of Jazz’s torso to his bumper, feeling along an area on the underside where Jazz was a little extra sensitive. Jazz gave a happy sigh and then bent at the waist until his mouth was on Prowl’s neck, and his fingers stretched out to the top corners of the sensory panels.

After a few hot kisses to Prowl’s neck, Jazz rearranged his legs so one was a little closer to Prowl’s mid-section, allowing the gap between Jazz’s legs to better open. Prowl let both hands slip down and began caressing the seams by Jazz’s valve cover. Jazz gasped and the cover snapped back.

A thumb rubbed the outer rim of Jazz’s valve, while his other thumb and forefinger began rolling Jazz’s anterior node. His partner gasped and laid his helm on Prowl’s shoulder. Prowl gave him just a moment to adjust to the rolling sensation of his node before plunging a finger a shallow distance into Jazz’s valve. He slowly worked the finger inside the slick valve, feeling the tight calipers squeeze his finger eagerly.

When Jazz moaned and relaxed a little more, his fingers curling around Prowl’s sensory panels and stirring a groan from the tactician, Prowl carefully added a second finger as he stopped rolling Jazz’s node. He switched to lightly rubbing it, careful not to overstimulate the gorgeous mech in his berth.

“Need you…” Jazz moaned as pulled away from Prowl’s fingers and towards his spike.

“Any special position?” Prowl asked as he slowly withdrew his fingers.

“I want to ride you.”

“Then by all means,” Prowl said as he wrapped one dry and one wet hand around Jazz’s hips and guided him towards his spike. As soon as the outer hood of Jazz’s valve touched the tip of Prowl’s spike, Jazz took over and adjusted himself so he could slowly sink onto Prowl’s valve.

When Jazz’s aft was resting on Prowl’s plating, allowing his tight valve to fully engulf Prowl’s spike and have the calipers dance along his length, Prowl wiggled to push against different calipers. Jazz shuddered and started moving.

Not to be undone, Prowl began moving, too. Prowl’s wet hand stayed on Jazz’s hips while his dry hand joined Jazz’s hands using Prowl’s chassis for balance. Prowl wanted to enjoy being _with_ Jazz as much as he enjoyed being _in_ Jazz, and holding his hands gave him an extra emotional satisfaction he used to ignore. Since agreeing to be more than just occasional lovers, Prowl had accepted there was an emotional element to their relationship, and moments like these reminded him how good they felt.

Soon Jazz was riding him hard and gasping encouragement to Prowl to keep plowing him like he was doing, if not harder. Prowl was venting heavily and sharply, putting all his effort into spiking his partner senseless. His goal was to frag Jazz until Jazz overloaded and his spasming calipers milked him to release.

He got exactly what he wanted, when Jazz tensed up, his fingers curling into Prowl’s plating, and cried out a strong overload. His calipers wasted no strength as they grasped him tightly and Prowl forced one more stroke that wouldn’t hurt Jazz’s wet valve but pressed his length along those tight calipers. His own overload came with a shout.

They panted, their fans at their highest speed, as they came back to awareness. Jazz slipped off to the side, letting one of his hands on Prowl’s chassis remain in place to drape across his form. Prowl didn’t think much of it until the draping hand began circling the armor plating above Prowl’s spark chamber.

“Spark merger?” Prowl awed at the silent request.

Jazz nodded. “We haven’t done it a few times now, and I’ve been missing you.”

“I’ve been missing you too.” Prowl rolled until he was on top of Jazz. His armor parted and his cool-white spark shined in the half-lit room. “My turn to be on top.”

“Never going to argue against that sight,” Jazz agreed with wonderment. His armor parted back to reveal a teal spark, one with tendrils eagerly reaching out to Prowl’s spark. Prowl’s returned with tendrils joining Jazz.

Every time they merged it felt like it was new, the rush of energy and encompassing presence that surrounded his being. Memories that weren’t Prowl’s were played in bits and pieces, as the merger wasn’t deep enough for full memories, but that was something Prowl could live with not doing. Or at least that’s what he always reminded him when he felt the power and excitement that was Jazz wash over him and cradle him like he was someone precious.

Their merger started off steady, but the building energy quickly grew until they overloaded together. Prowl wavered, barely remembering that his body was hovering close to Jazz’s and that he needed to keep from crashing down.

Slipping down at a sideways angle, Prowl managed to rest his helm on Jazz’s shoulder in a slightly awkward position. He didn’t care, because right now his body was secondary to the feeling in his spark.

After a half breem, a black hand rubbed his cheek, and Prowl looked up to Jazz’s smiling face. “Come here…” Jazz murmured. Prowl moved and they joined each other in a tender kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Their hands were everywhere. He barely made it through the door to the Constructicons’ large quarters when they were all over him. Bonecrusher and Mixmaster were on his sensory panels, Hook had his lips, Bonecrusher was mouthing his chevron from behind while wrapping his arms around Prowl’s waist, and Scavenger was licking one side of his bumper, by Hook. The other side of his bumper was occupied by Hook’s hand as the other one held Prowl’s face in place by his chin while they lip-locked.

Prowl allowed himself to give into the onslaught of sensation and moaned deeply into the kiss before his helm tilted back, breaking contact with Hook and Bonecrusher. It exposed his neck to Hook, who kissed it before using his hand to guide Prowl’s lips back to him. Bonecrusher wrapped his mouth around a chevron and sucked hard, causing Prowl to shiver.

“Not enough fragging,” Bonecrusher grunted and he picked up Prowl around the waist, giving one klik for everyone to break away so Bonecrusher could handle Prowl to the berth. Prowl was mercifully placed on the berth by the edge. He tried scooting to the middle of a berth large enough for six Constructicons, and then some (the original Constructicon berth), but Long Haul pulled his waist to the edge.

“Prime location for making you regret keeping yourself away from us, Boss,” Long Haul explained as he and Bonecrusher manipulated Prowl onto all fours.

Prowl thought about protesting being the one on all fours when Scavenger laid on his back and scooted underneath Prowl, barely fitting even when Prowl widened his stance. Scavenger began licking his valve cover and Prowl let it snap open, and the Constructicon began orally servicing his anterior node.

“Not just that cover,” Mixmaster commented as he rubbed Prowl’s spike cover. The cover retracted and Mixmaster’s large hands rubbed Prowl’s spike as it pressurized just above Scavenger’s chassis.

“Uhhh…” Prowl groaned as he was serviced by the two of them. He could feel over the bond the other three fighting for his valve, and he let them. His valve wanted to clamp down on something, but he could be patient.

Fingers not as large as Long Haul’s or Bonecrusher’s brushed his valve’s outer lips, teasingly pinching them. His sensory panels were under assault again, meaning the other two had each taken one in their hands and Bonecrusher’s mouth.

Hook’s finger was playfully dipping inside to curl or thrust, followed by a random pattern of soft pinches to Prowl’s outer folds. When Hook added two fingers for a harder thrust into the wet, tight valve, Prowl shuddered violently at all the sensations and then overloaded. His calipers clamped down on two large fingers while his tansfluid jetted into a warm hand.

Prowl felt himself being lowered down as all other sensations ceased. He knew it was not over, but rather, an interlude. They knew from what he was projecting over the bond that he needed a moment to recover from that overload.

When Prowl’s fans were a little quieter and his wits were better gathered, he surveyed the room. Long Haul was having his spike serviced by Hook’s mouth, while Mixmaster and Bonecrusher were wrestling with sultry touches. Scavenger was with Prowl, eagerly watching him to be of help again.

“Scavenger, help me back on all fours.” When he was positioned with aft over the edge of the berth, he called, “Long Haul, that spike needs better servicing.”

Hook pulled off, revealing a large, taunt spike. Prowl was familiar with the sizable spike – he was familiar with all their spikes – and knew that he could take it so long as Long Haul remembered the lube.

Hook produced the lube and rubbed it all over Long Haul’s spike, and Scavenger held up another bottle to Prowl. “May I…?”

“The wetter, the better.”

Scavenger went to work, using his fingers to plunge lube in deep within Prowl’s valve. He made sure to massage the walls until Prowl was certain lube was running down his legs. “Enough,” he ordered.

Long Haul stood between Prowl’s spread legs, forcing them obscenely wide. With slow, calculated thrusts, Long Haul gently pushed himself within Prowl until he touched Prowl’s ceiling node. Meanwhile, with each deepening thrust, Prowl’s helm was positively swimming in the sensation of being stretched.

Long Haul was the second thickest, beaten only by Bonecrusher, but he was the longest. When his spike touched Prowl’s ceiling node by his gestation chamber’s closed opening, his spike was only three quarters inside of Prowl. Hook’s hands moved down to cover the rest of Long Haul’s spike, making the last quarter of his spike undergo a hand-job as Long Haul began thrusting.

Scavenger sat on his knees in front of Prowl so he could wrap around Prowl and provide the help resisting Long Haul’s thrusts, allowing Prowl to keep from moving too much with each powerful forward motion.

Despite seeing colors explode across his vision and feel the electricity build in his frame, Prowl was focused on not overloading first. “Harder,” he groaned, knowing that rough was what got Long Haul to overload faster. Almost all of them overloaded faster if he let them use his frame a little roughly.

“You got it, Boss,” Long Haul grunted as he did as ordered.

Prowl was screaming inside to not overload when he finally felt the hot liquid stream inside the cool gel coating his tight valve. Like a switch, as soon as that hot liquid hit his ceiling node and overfilled his valve, his overload tipped, and his optics whited out.

When Prowl came back online, he was on his back, on top of Long Haul. The Constructicon was lazily being handsy with Prowl’s chassis, keeping a low charge going in the tactician. Hook and Scavenger were at the other end of the berth, with Hook pounding Scavenger’s valve while the power shovel was on all fours. A look to the side, to the floor, and Bonecrusher was filling Mixmaster while the mixer was on his back.

Prowl relaxed and allowed the low charge to build a little while the rest overloaded, Bonecrusher’s cry the most deafening. He missed this, having spent the last two orns working and not interfacing with anyone. The interface before that was with Jazz, so it had been a few more orns since he interfaced with his gestalt; hence them being very touchy as soon as the door closed from him entering their quarters.

They all crawled into berth and Long Haul arranged them all so they were in a tight circle. Their legs were tangled, but their chassis were touching.

Scavenger asked, “Now?” Even as his armor over his spark was starting to retract.

This was something the gestalt did regularly, even more than interfacing. Prowl didn’t want to combine again while he was prepping for the trial, for he knew the feeling of _oneness_ would linger afterwards and distract him, so they substituted spark mergers.

While Long Haul had arranged them for a group spark merger this time, the reality was Prowl would only merge with one of the two on his sides, Long Haul or Mixmaster. It was medically impossible to truly spark merge more than one at a time, but the touches of multiple sparks were something surreal and unexplainable. It made the logical Prowl tingle, wanting to know more about the feelings he couldn’t describe.

They all parted armor and tendrils from six sparks reached out, interweaving with everyone to some level. Prowl could feel the faintest touches from Bonecrusher, Hook, and Scavenger, while he felt Long Haul a little stronger, but nothing as strong as Mixmaster. With Mixmaster he was able to get sketches of memories.

This spark merger was quick because it was the energy of six sparks mingling. His overload washed over him, and he felt a moment of oneness that wasn’t as strong as a deep spark merge or combining, but it was enough to help him with his feelings of needing his gestalt. From the looks on everyone else’s face as they all fell into one another from overload, their needs of feeling oneness with the gestalt were also fulfilled. It may not have been an emotionally fulfilling interface, but it settled the loneliness in his spark for the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medix is G1 canon Autobot.
> 
> I don’t subscribe to the idea they have internal radios/commlinks but use their mouths to talk to it. I know that’s canon but to hell with that.

Prowl resisted drumming his fingers against the private medical berth as he waited for Medix to finish fussing around with his scanner and tools, now that the visual assessment of his health was over. The medic pulled the scanner and pointed it in the direction of Prowl’s tank. “First, let’s scan your energon and see if there’s anything of concern.”

After the scanner beeped and its indicator turned green Medix nodded, satisfied by the results. “Next, let’s scan your hydraulic system.” They kept at it, scanning every important internal system. Everything passed examination, with only a few things mildly elevated, such as his fuel pump’s speed.

“I believe that’s everything,” Prowl stated when the medic flipped through his scanner’s results on a screen.

Medix shook his helm. “One last check. I like to always check sparks to make sure spark burnout isn’t a risk.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“It has happened,” Medix insisted. “Now hold still, or I will ask Hook to come in here and help me.”

Prowl narrowed his optics but complied, rearranging himself so his chassis was easily readable by a scanner. He watched for the green light but when the beep came, this time the indicator was yellow. His medic furrowed his optic ridges and made a little ‘O’ with his mouth, which snapped shut and his optics went wide as he looked at the results.

“What is it?” Prowl anxiously asked. Surely it wasn’t spark burn out, it couldn’t be that.

“It may be nothing, but I need to see your spark for visual inspection.”

His hesitation lasted a klik before he berated himself for being so paranoid around a medic with a concerning scanner message. Still, his chassis armor and spark chamber wall moved slowly.

Medix examined what he saw with a careful optic, and all of Prowl’s attention was focused on the medic instead of the cold feeling in his spark. He didn’t know whether it was dread or his spark being exposed without the light of another spark nearby.

“You may close up now,” he said as he pulled away from Prowl.

“Well, you are going to tell me what’s happening?” Prowl demanded.

“Of course, I’m just searching for words.” He paused very briefly, just long enough for Prowl’s vents to hitch but not for him to get in a word. “Prowl, you’re sparked.”

Prowl stared for what felt like a long time. “What? I’m sorry, I know you did do an audio check and found my audios are working, but I did not hear what I just think I heard.”

“If you heard the words ‘you’re sparked,’ I assure you that you did hear right. I take it this isn’t planned?”

“Not in the slightest.” Prowl shook his helm. He rubbed his face.

“Is this bad news, Prowl?”

“It’s certainly news of some sort. I may be good at classifying information, but this… I can’t.”

“I see. Well, you have a couple of deca-orns to think about before you really only have one option. Are you familiar with the options?”

“Carry it to term or terminate it, I am familiar with the concepts.” He hadn’t dealt with it before, either personally or through another Autobot struggling with the decision. “I don’t know the specifics of either.”

“I can educate you now or do so later when you’ve had chance to process the news. If you choose later, then I can give you reading material so you can educate yourself and come here with questions.”

“I prefer the second option. I do best studying on my own before addressing situations with others present.”

Medix nodded. “That is fine. Give me a moment and I’ll have everything on a datapad for you.”

While he waited Prowl could only think of what he couldn’t quite process. He dropped his helm into his hands and stayed like that until he heard the faint steps of a presence outside the door. His self-preservation instincts kicked in and he straightened out, his usual neutral mask falling into place.

“Here you go,” Medix handed him the datapad as he stepped inside the room. “Before you go, let’s schedule you for another appointment in a deca-orn to discuss whatever you decide on doing. We can always move it around.”

“That is reasonable.”

At least, Prowl thought it was reasonable. That changed when the stunned mech had barely made it into his quarters and there was a sudden tug on the gestalt bond from Hook’s side. ~Prowl, what happened?~

~What do you mean?~

~Why do you have another appointment with Medix next deca-orn?~ His side of the bond was filled with worry.

~I would rather not talk about for the moment.~ If ever. This was a private decision.

The worry on Hook’s side of the bond bloomed and it was immediately joined by four others. All five prodded him for his location, causing Prowl to panic and slam shut the bond. He could still feel them, but it was much more muffled.

He collapsed face-down in his berth and stayed like that, trying to will away his situation. His attention remained focused on it until there was a several chimes and fast knocks on his locked door. His helm shot up and instinctively he felt the bond. There was five “we’re here” bond responses and Prowl realized all five were outside his door.

Prowl scowled; he didn’t need this now. ~Go away.~

~But Prowl,~ Scavenger worriedly answered, ~We want to know you’re okay.~

~We _need_ to know you’re okay,~ Long Haul corrected.

~I am perfectly functional. Now go away.~

There were more rapid knocks from the door. Hook replied, ~We are not going away. We care about you and need to see it for ourselves.~

Mixmaster had a solution to the Constructicons’ plight. ~Unless you want everyone to see us five camping outside your door, you will let us in.~

Prowl huffed and commanded the door to open as he sat. “Now you can see I’m fine, so leave,” he said the moment the door closed behind them.

Bonecrusher shook his helm. “Nah, not happening Prowl. We need you to talk to us.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Mixmaster scoffed. “What deal? Now spill; Hook already told us that you have some mystery medical appointment on the books.”

Prowl wanted to wrap his arms around his mid-torso but instead he folded them in his lap and tried to not fidget. “I can’t. I just can’t, okay? I’ll be fine but I need to deal with this on my own.”

Long Haul’s hand twitched. “You are gestalt, and no gestalt member deals with anything alone. Especially not something that’s got you this twisted up.”

Scavenger piped in, “Because we care. Remember that, Prowl?”

Bonecrusher pressed his lips. “All of that. All of that is why we aren’t going to leave you alone when you’re like this. We can feel your fear and anxiety.”

Prowl realized his emotions were bleeding into the bond and he slammed the gate shut, but it did little except earn him flinches and pouts. Hook approached a few more steps and then knelt to better look Prowl in the optic. “Whatever it is, we’re gestalt and we can handle it.”

Prowl groaned and looked away. This was such a private decision, but how was he going to keep it away from the bond? And was it a decision meant to be kept away from his gestalt anyways? They were a part of this too – either them or Jazz, Prowl belatedly realized. Who shared responsibility for this?

“What is it, Prowl?” Hook asked, reading Prowl’s face as the realization dawned on the tactician.

He increased his fan flow to cool down when the panic of not knowing heated his frame. “I will tell you because I probably need to, but first I need Jazz here. This may affect him, too.”

“On it,” Scavenger said and he comm’ed Jazz. “He says he’s coming and will be here in three breems. That’s the fastest he can make it.”

Hook walked in a crouched position as he closed in on Prowl’s legs, and Prowl felt the pulse from Hook for the others to join them in comforting Prowl. Four sparks answered back and Prowl was surrounded by his gestalt by his legs and on his berth. Their plating was barely resting against his, and Prowl found the light contact soothing.

The ping at his door was immediately answered by the door opening and revealing a concerned Jazz. “What’s up?”

Bonecrusher answered first. “We don’t know, but now that you’re here, Prowl said he’d tell us.”

Prowl replied, “I need space first.”

The Constructicons scrambled two small paces away from Prowl, afraid to give him more space than that. Jazz pushed his way through the bigger frames so he was off to the side but almost within reach of Prowl. “We’re listening, Prowl, although I’m not sure what I’m listening for…?” He questioningly turned from Prowl to the Constructicons and back.

Hook answered. “Prowl’s got another medical appointment on the books in a deca-orn and we don’t know why.”

Jazz’s helm snapped back. “What? Prowl, what’s going on?”

Prowl unfolded his hands and put them beside him, bracing against his berth. His optics remained on the floor. “My checkup nearly came back perfect, there was some elevated signs like pump speed…” he started talking in a mono voice, going through the motions of data-dumping rather than getting to the spark of the matter.

Bonecrusher interrupted when Prowl’s information droned on a little too much. “Do you know why?”

“Yes.” That one word was loaded with emotion across the bond, although its tone was empty. “I’m – well, apparently I’m sparked.”

The reaction was swift for Jazz and Hook, while delayed for the rest. Jazz’s hand flew to his mouth and Hook hummed his shock. The others blinked, and both of Scavenger’s hands flew to his face, covering his mouth and nose.

Prowl was planning to stare intently at the ground, until there was sudden joy across the bond from Mixmaster. His optics shot up to the mixer, who had the tiniest smile. “Mixmaster, what are you doing?”

“It’s a sparkling, Prowl!”

Hesitant joy washed over the bond from all the other Constructicons, but Hook pushed back on it and admonished them for getting excited so soon. He said, “Clearly Prowl is still working through this. What are you thinking, Prowl?”

“I’m uncertain what to think.” His optics moved to Jazz, who he couldn’t read like his gestalt. Vorns of practice did tell him that the former saboteur was also struggling to process this, based on his slack expression. “Jazz?” he tentatively called. His arms remained where they were, but they felt weaker.

Jazz’s hand slid away to the side of his face. “I mean… yeah, it’s a sparkling. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one, I practically forgot they existed. But now there’s one in our midst, or at least if you want it to be. Do you know what you want?”

“I haven’t decided. Since we are rebuilding society, the future of this sparkling could be good or very bleak, and I don’t want to curse it.”

“Don’t think like that!” Scavenger immediately rebutted with urgency. “We didn’t grow up with good circumstances, but here we are with the best lives we could ever live!”

There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the Constructicons, and when they subsided Jazz nodded. “I didn’t have great circumstances when I was young either, but I’m glad I had a chance. I’m happy now.”

“Are you all telling me to keep it?” Prowl asked, searching for answers in their faces. “I doubt I would be the creator it needs.”

“You don’t need to be the sparkling’s everything,” Scavenger soothed, “because it’s part of the gestalt.”

“I wouldn’t let you be alone, either,” Jazz assured. “No matter what, even if… wait, who’s the sire?”

Prowl couldn’t hide the embarrassed look. “I don’t know, and I was too unsettled to ask if there’s a way to scan a spark for a signature from the sire.”

Hook shook his helm. “There’s no way without getting invasive, and I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

There was a round of “Don’t do it, sire doesn’t matter to us!” from the Constructicons. Jazz nodded and said, “I agree with them that the actual sire doesn’t matter, but old habits say to gather as much intel as possible. It’ll just be our mystery sparkling – if you decide to keep it, of course.”

Prowl looked each one of them in the face, starting with Hook. Each Constructicon pulsed _care_ , and when he arrived last at Jazz he saw a disarming smile. “I haven’t decided, but my first two arguments would be its future and my inability to parent it. You’ve all made valid points against those arguments.”

Jazz shook his helm but kept his smile. “Prowl, now that you know you aren’t on your own, the question should be answered with how do you feel about keeping it? Not theories or concepts, but feels.”

“I don’t do feelings.”

“Then congrats, you start now.”

Prowl sighed and tried, but instead he suddenly felt drained. “Can we all go to the Constructicons quarters and recharge together? Jazz, I know you don’t do that, but I would appreciate you being there now and when I online.”

“Whatever it takes to keep you at ease, that’s my priority right now.” Jazz held out his hand. “Come on, let’s walk together.”

“Since when have we done public affection?” Prowl asked, his hand hovering midway to take Jazz’s hand.

“Lots of things have changed since I found out you were sparked. For instance, I don’t care about PDA because I want to make sure you feel comforted.”

Prowl lightly scoffed but with no hostility. He took Jazz’s hand and as he stood up he said, “That was hardly a breem ago.”

“A breem, a vorn, whatever.” Jazz squeezed Prowl’s hand. “Now you guys need to lead the way.”

Scavenger was in front, and the rest of the Constructicons surrounded Prowl and Jazz. Prowl could feel the protectiveness emanating from their sides of the bond. No one was going to get to Prowl without having to first go through at least one Constructicon. At that moment Prowl felt blessed, that despite how much others hated him, he had Jazz and the Constructicons.

When they arrived all seven stepped inside, and Jazz took the moment to look around the room. “Wow, that’s a really big berth.”

“Meant for six Constructicons,” Prowl explained.

“That says to me the sixth Constructicon is huge!”

Prowl chuckled. “I suppose.” He felt Bonecrusher grab him around the waist and barely let go of Jazz’s hand in time for Bonecrusher to lift Prowl off the ground.

“Hey!” Jazz protested. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable,” Bonecrusher grunted. “Moving Prowl into position is how we do it.”

Long Haul reassured Jazz, “We’ll leave a spot by Prowl for you.”

That spot turned out to be Prowl’s hip, and on top of Bonecrusher, who had comfortably made himself Prowl’s resting spot. The rest climbed around Prowl before Jazz could get into the pile, and Long Haul had to push Mixmaster and Scavenger around to make room for him.

Normally Prowl didn’t like recharging with a lot of touch, and now everyone had at least one hand on him. Given the circumstances it was comforting, especially with the encouraging emotions coming from his gestalt.

Everyone fell into recharge fast, except for Prowl and Jazz. He could tell Jazz was still awake by his small movements. “Jazz?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I should keep it when everyone but you six hate me? Someone could hurt it.”

“Nah, because they know five brutes and one saboteur/assassin would kill them long before they could escape. Plus you’ve got Devastator.”

A dark chuckle escaped. “So you believe I won’t hurt it, someone else won’t hurt it…”

“Remember what I said? About doing this with feeling?”

What was his feelings? Although all five bonds were quite from recharge, there was a lingering sense of comfort and deep caring. With Jazz’s hand brushing Prowl’s upper thigh, he could feel the same coming from him as well. Wouldn’t it be nice to nurture an innocent instead of partaking in something that could claim it as another victim? To teach someone all he knew without strings attached? Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone look at him with positivity without adding “despite what he did during the war”? Perhaps that positivity might include love? And wouldn’t it be nice to feel a hug from that someone with pure love for him in their spark?

“Okay,” he said as his optics brightened, and a small smile appeared. “I’ll keep the sparkling.”

He felt Jazz smile against his hip. “Good. Now go to sleep, you’ve got a lot ahead of you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sparklings will be referred to as “he” because the comics (MTMTE specifically, I think) establish native Cybertronians default to male pronouns.

Medix continued to see Prowl so that he could have a private medic to talk to about issues. Hook understood, although he stayed outside the private medical room to escort Prowl to and from there. Prowl was hardly alone the past deca-orn since the morning after he found out about his state. The Constructicons kept him in their room as often as they could, and if he needed space, he would be in his room with a Constructicon nearby.

Jazz wasn’t much better at giving him space. Sometimes it was just Jazz, and sometimes it was Jazz and a Constructicon. At least Jazz had enough tact to not upset Prowl with clinginess. He also couldn’t pour worry into the bond like the other five periodically did. Mostly he used that charming smile of his and offered to soothingly rub Prowl or get him energon.

There was also the interfacing, as the datapad said would be required for his gestation chamber. For that reason, interfacing was more frequent with Jazz or the Constructicons than it had ever been. Sometimes it was too much, and he would only spend a session with one Constructicon. Last orn it was Jazz, and normally his valve was tender from enthusiastic interfacing, but Jazz ‘jokingly’ pouted that his valve needed some attention. After figuring out that five other donors were probably enough for now, Jazz got what he needed.

Medix held a specialty scanner over Prowl’s abdomen, specifically over the gestation chamber. “My, my,” he started, “you and the sire have been busy. Even if you interfaced every orn I wouldn’t expect this much material in your gestation chamber so soon.”

Prowl’s frame heated up. He told Medix he was keeping the sparkling but declined to share any information about the sire. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not great. You don’t want to fill the gestation chamber so early because the nanites can only process so much per orn. The rest becomes waste. For now, I suggest easing up a bit.”

That was actually good news, that he could tell the Constructicons he needed to slow down. He supposed he should tell Jazz, too. “I will do so. What’s next?”

“I need to scan the sparkling’s spark. If you can part your armor, the reading will be more thorough. You don’t need to open your spark chamber.” He raised the scanner to Prowl’s chassis as the armor moved away.

“Ah, hmmm. You may put your armor back now, scanner’s done. Based on this reading I have concerning news. It seems the sparkling is meant to be bigger than your spark can support on its own. You’ll need to start regular spark merging with the sire.”

“Excuse me? That wasn’t in the reading material.”

“It’s a special deviation from the norm. It appears the sire either has a very strong spark or has a bigger one. That detail means this spark needs the energy of a stronger or bigger spark you don’t have.”

“Oh.” So that meant it was less likely to be Jazz’s. Prowl felt a twinge of disappointment. He also felt disappointed in himself, for his spark wasn’t enough for his sparkling.

Medix partly read his mind. “It doesn’t happen often, but you shouldn’t feel bad. A cold constructed spark is different and even forge sparks sometimes have the same issues. To be honest, cold constructed spark supporting a sparkling is quite rare.”

“Lucky me,” Prowl grumbled. He sounded harsher than he felt because Medix’s words weren’t as comforting as the medic hoped.

The medic offered a tight smile. “It’ll be okay so long as you spark merge almost as often as interfacing. It also gives the sire a better chance to influence the sparkling’s personality at this stage.”

After a few more breems Prowl was released and he called Jazz to his quarters. He would tell Jazz privately and then the Constructicons.

Jazz beat him to his door and was lounging when Prowl saw him as Hook walked him back. “Good to see you, Jazz. You may go, Hook.”

Hook nodded. “Treat him well, Jazz.”

“Always do.” When Hook left, Jazz said, “The usual?”

“Not exactly.” He let them into his room.

Once inside Jazz softly touched Prowl’s arm to have Prowl face him. He gave Prowl a soft kiss on the lips, and Prowl belatedly reciprocated. “Something wrong?”

“The sparkling is fine, for the most part, but I need to talk to you about one or two concerns. Please sit.”

Jazz obliged and sat at Prowl’s dining table for two. Prowl joined him and folded his hands on the table. “I want you to know I care deeply for you and whatever decision you make I will accept.” Prowl could feel his fans working a little harder as he spoke, his frame slightly warmer and his spark pulsing fast. “The sparkling has a unique demand on my spark, and it turns out my spark energy isn’t enough. Whoever sired it either has a strong spark or a big spark.”

“And I have a standard forged spark that’s not extra strong,” Jazz finished. Prowl ducked his helm. Jazz reached out and placed both hands over Prowl’s. “That’s not going to scare me off if that’s what you think. Yeah, it’s pretty likely I’m not the actual sire but that doesn’t mean I can’t act like one. I don’t want you to think the Constructicons are all you have because that’s not true.”

His vents released hot air and his frame ceased being overly warm as his anxiety evaporated. He pulled one hand free and placed it on top of Jazz’s to squeeze. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The ex-saboteur smiled. “Now there was a second thing?”

“The sparkling needs spark energy donated by the sire, and even though I know it’s likely to be a Constructicon, I was wondering if perhaps you might donate, too. At least at this stage. According to Medix, the donation would currently influence personality and I would like traits from your personality to be included.”

Jazz smiled, “Of course! Are you sure that won’t hurt the sparkling, to have a non-sire spark donate?” His smile faltered.

“I doubt it since it hasn’t yet, and I’ve spark merged with everyone prior to finding out. There’s also the fact I will need to spark merge with all the Constructicons and four out of five aren’t the sire. Your efforts won’t be a problem.”

“Great! So now what, frag and then merge?” Jazz licked his lips.

“Oh yes, that’s the other thing,” Prowl awkwardly recalled. “My interfacing life has been too active, according to Medix. I need to slow down.”

Jazz’s expression soured. “I’m going to kill Medix.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Fine, then at least you can frag me? My valve really wants your spike,” he purred.

Prowl gave his best seductive smile. “I can do that.” His hand rubbed along Jazz’s torso side, from hip up to shoulder, turning off the path to trace Jazz’s bumper.

Jazz’s hands and talented glossa made short work of Prowl, and Prowl worked to keep up with his own hands and glossa. They both knew Prowl had to talk to the Constructicons soon and wasted no time interfacing with Prowl spiking from top.

When they were done, Jazz used his curled legs to flip Prowl, using his hands to guide his frame safely down onto the berth. “My turn to merge on top.”

Prowl softly smiled and opened his armor and spark chamber. This time Prowl clung to Jazz, perhaps tighter than normal, which slightly deepened the merger. The knowledge and feeling that Jazz was contributing to his sparkling was nearly overwhelming, especially with the stronger energy and more detailed memories from Jazz. They were able to almost maintain the merger as long as they usually did, but they fell short with each undergoing a strong overload.

After recovering Jazz pulled away and rubbed his chassis above his spark. “Mech, does that take it out of you. Didn’t know donating could feel that way.”

Prowl pushed himself up and put his hands over Jazz’s chassis, his hands joining Jazz’s. His spark felt more joyful, although if that was due to the deeper merger and/or the donation, he didn’t know. “Are you alright? I don’t want to do this if it hurts you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jazz said with a wave of his free hand. His other hand squeezed Prowl’s hands. “Cuddle a little before you tell the Constructies?”

“Certainly.”

They cuddled with Jazz wrapped around Prowl until Prowl could feel anxiety across the bond. The Constructicons wanted to see Prowl. He sent a pulse back reassuring he was still fine since he saw Hook, that he was spending time with Jazz. They would see him soon. Long Haul sent a message back that he and Bonecrusher were on their way to escort him to their quarters.

Prowl sighed. “Looks like this is about over. Long Haul and Bonecrusher are on their way to pick me up so I can spend time with the Constructicons.”

“I’ll untangle from you when they’re here. Otherwise you’re all mine.” He squeezed Prowl with his full body.

“You’re being affectionate of late.”

“What, can’t be in a mood?”

When the knock came Jazz freed Prowl from his embrace. “Time for me to go?”

“Unfortunately. I look forward to our next donation efforts, and we can do it proper next time.”

Jazz smiled and hastily greeted Bonecrusher and Long Haul as they entered and he slipped out. Long Haul asked, “Ready, Prowl?”

“Yes, I have to speak to all of you about a few issues.”

Alarm spread across their faces and Prowl placated them. “The sparkling is fine.”

Bonecrusher exchanged looks with his purple/green partner. “We’re heading back fast. I don’t want to wait to hear.”

Once inside the Constructicons quarters Prowl sat on a chair and the Constructicons spread themselves throughout the room, Long Haul and Mixmaster on the berth, Bonecrusher and Hook at the table, and Scavenger on the ground. They all looked at Prowl with total dedication to hear what he needed to say.

“Firstly, the doctor says I’m interfacing too much for my gestation chamber to handle.”

A collective groan echoed in the room, followed by a few “I’m going to kill him” replies.

“No one is killing Medix,” Prowl pointedly spoke. “Now, the second issue is the sparkling needs spark energy donated to it. Given we don’t know who the sire is, that means I need donations from all of you and Jazz.” So what if he kept a little secret from them? So long as he was carrying they agreed not to merge into Devastator, meaning they couldn’t invade his mind. Not that they should anyhow, for they now knew better than to rifle through his thoughts.

He wasn’t sure how they would take the spark merger news, but by their smug grins from all except Hook, he knew they were accepting of it. Hook looked concerned and voiced his worry. “Prowl, why does the sparkling need spark energy donated? That’s very atypical.”

“The sparkling needs more than a cold constructed standard spark can give,” Prowl unhappily replied.

His discomfort must have broadcasted across the bond because all the smug smiles evaporated. Scavenger cried, “Your spark is perfect!”

“Yeah, everything about you is perfect!” Bonecrusher agreed. Long Haul and Mixmaster echoed their agreement.

Hook pressed his lips. “You are perfect, but maybe this sparkling is beyond normal.”

“Maybe he’s exceptional,” Mixmaster excitedly said. “The creation of Prowl would be exceptional.”

“Can we skip this part?” Prowl huffed. Hook was getting too close to the other half of the matter, that one of their large sparks was the source of this. “I would rather spark merge now with all of you than get into this.”

Hook put his hands up. “Alright, but I want Medix to check up on you in another deca-orn to make sure all is going well with this donation bit.”

|||||

“Oh my, it’s as if five mechs are donating spark energy to you!” Medix gapped as he looked at his scanner.

“Yes, well – wait, five?” Prowl interrupted himself. “How did you get that number?”

“This scanner is picking up lingering traces of five fully-matured spark energy signatures.”

“Why five and not six then?”

Medix blinked. “Six? Five isn’t enough? Usually it’s just one.”

Prowl bit his lip and tried not to show his embarrassment. “My gestalt has been helping,” he finally revealed.

“Okay, that accounts for five but not the sixth. Who is it?”

“Someone else. Don’t worry about him right now.”

“Right… can’t expect you to not have secrets for once. Well, all I can say is the sixth isn’t donating.” Medix put down the scanner.

“On purpose?”

“If he’s actually spark merging, then no. That’s not something he can purposefully fake.”

“Hmm, alright. Anything else?”

Medix shook his helm. “Everything else is good, and the sparkling is now much healthier. You should soon feel your sparkling at this rate. Given that your gestation chamber is at a good level now, I would say keep up the pace you’re having with your, er, six partners with spark and nanite donations.”

After they were done, Hook greeted him the same way as last time, from the other side of the private medical door, but his helm was cocked to the side in concern. “What’s got you in a bunch?” Hook tugged on the bond to show he could feel Prowl’s emotions.

“I need to talk to you, the other Constructicons, and Jazz.”

“Alright, I’ll comm Jazz and tell him to meet us in the Constructicons quarters.”

They joined up with everyone in the quarters, although Jazz arrived last. “Sorry,” he huffed in a tired voice, “was recharging. Feeling a bit groggy these orns.”

“Jazz, take a free spot,” Prowl said. Jazz obliged by sitting on the floor in the same spot near the wall. Everyone was spread out on the floor, table, and berth. Prowl stood by the washracks door where he could see them all.

He started, “Firstly, the sparkling is doing better, and so is my gestation chamber. However, Medix detected only five spark energy signatures. Someone here isn’t donating.”

The Constructicons immediately started snapping at each other until Bonecrusher barked, “Maybe it’s Jazz!”

“What, no way it’s me,” Jazz refuted as he rubbed his chassis. “I’m getting tired every time from trying. Primus, if I didn’t know any better, I would say I need spark energy donated.”

“That’s so selfish of you,” Mixmaster growled. “You’re the only one who we can’t see donate. It must be you.”

Jazz’s optic ridges narrowed. “You call me out like that?”

Scavenger tried, “Hey now, we’re all – ”

“Be quiet, Scavenger,” Long Haul ordered. “Bonecrusher and Mixmaster are right; it has to be Jazz.”

“How?” Hook wondered. “Medically speaking, it’s impossible. Prowl would know if they weren’t actually spark merging.”

“That’s what Medix said,” Prowl confirmed. “Everyone, calm down.”

“I will not,” Bonecrusher’s voice darkened. “Jazz is the guilty one. He’s not helping.”

Jazz jumped up. “You shut up and take that back.”

Prowl tried to run interference. “Please, everyone needs to calm down.”

Mixmaster shook his helm. “Prowl, Boss, you might be the smartest one in the room, but we aren’t going to let Jazz get away with this.”

“I’m not getting away with anything!”

“Yes, you are!” Mixmaster shot back.

Hook added, “I don’t know how you can fake it, but I can tell you that none of us are feeling tired after donating. Your reaction to donating is wrong.”

“It’s not wrong! It is what it is! Ugh, just dealing with you now is making my helm spin!” That was all the warning they got when Jazz collapsed on the floor. “ _Nnnghhh_ …” he moaned.

The Constructicons all stood up from their spots, but Hook jumped over to Jazz with Prowl hot on his heels. Prowl anxiously asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

“I have my scanner. Jazz, sit up against the wall.” Although Hook didn’t need help moving the smaller mech, Prowl helped Hook carry Jazz to the nearby wall and set him down.

Hook fetched his scanner and ran it over all of Jazz’s body. He frowned at the several yellow indicators. “This isn’t good. You aren’t well. It’s like your body is working hard to support –”

Suddenly, as his words abruptly cut off, Hook flooded the bond with shock as something dawned on him. As quickly as Prowl felt it, Hook for once slammed the bond shut.

“Jazz, hold still.” Hook aimed the scanner at Jazz’s chassis. When it came back yellow again, Hook scooped up Jazz and said, “I’m taking Jazz to the washracks. Everyone, stay out here.”

“Why?” Prowl asked. “I want to come.”

“No, this is private.”

Jazz groaned, “It’s okay. Be good to have someone who isn’t after me.”

“Alright,” Hook reluctantly agreed.

Prowl pushed the other Constructicons out of the way, although it was more like they obliged his pushing and made room for the three of them to enter the only private area of the quarters. Hook set Jazz down in the washrack and crouched next to him. “Jazz, your frame is overheating, your fuel pump is going too fast, your energy levels are too low, and there are many other systems showing excess strain of life support.”

Jazz groaned, “That all sounds sucky. Why we here?”

“I need to see your spark.”

“Pit no.”

“Jazz, please,” Prowl pleaded. “I’m right here; nothing bad will happen.”

Jazz grumbled and put a hand over his chassis before his armor slowly retracted. He kept it there even when the light of his spark shined. “One chance, Hook.”

“Shouldn’t need more than that.” As soon as Jazz dropped his hand away, Hook peered inside and a klik later his hands clenched.

Jazz saw and said, “Hey!” He immediately closed his chassis. “What’s with the threatening hands?”

“I know why you aren’t donating.”

“I told you I am!”

“I believe you believe that, but I’m here to tell you you’re unsuccessfully trying,” Hook argued. “And I know that because you’re sparked. You can’t donate.”

Jazz squeaked. “I am _not_ sparked!”

“Want me to mark up a picture? I know you don’t trust me but trust my medical professionalism when I say you are.”

“Hook,” Prowl quietly butted into the conversation as Jazz sputtered. “What can you tell us about the sparkling?”

“Not much without a specialty scanner. I can say by some of the scan data that he’s been sparked longer than you, Prowl. Size is a little small, but then I think that’s due to the attempts to donate.”

“Thank you. Now get out.”

Hook blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Jazz and I need a moment.”

“Fine.” Hook stood up from his crouched position by Jazz. This time Hook used comms to privately say to Prowl, ::Unless he’s got another partner, that makes his sparkling yours.::

Prowl’s vents stalled and stayed that way until Hook was gone. Then he rebooted his cooling system forced the vents to resume normal speeds. He sat next to Jazz and put an arm around him.

Jazz rested his helm on Prowl’s shoulder. “How can this be?”

“I know the feeling. It’ll be okay,” Prowl soothed and then wrapped himself around Jazz. The taxed mech curled into Prowl. Prowl wasn’t gifted with kind words, nor was he much for comforting action, but he could be here while Jazz processed what he just learned.


	5. Chapter 5

They remained in each other’s embrace for a couple of breems before Jazz sat up and rubbed his optics beneath his visor. “I don’t know what to do.”

“If you’re further along than me, then you’ve missed the window to make a decision,” Prowl quietly explained.

“Yeah, true. I guess the only decision to make is finding my doctor,” Jazz shakily said. “Primus, this isn’t going to be easy.”

“So I’ve read. I’ve been alright so far, but I’m not far along enough to really run into the side effects or many complication risks.”

“Yeah, but I think I’ve already run into more complications by it being smaller than it’s supposed to be, plus all the bad system scans.”

Prowl rubbed Jazz’s shoulder. “So was mine and that was solved by – oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

“I take it I’m the sire?” Prowl awkwardly asked, uncertain how to feel about the anticipated answer.

Jazz nodded. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you and I got serious. Also haven’t spark merged with anyone else even longer than that. Might be a vorn since the last one.”

Prowl’s hand slipped to the ground. So he was a sire and carrier. That posed a lot of complications, especially since he couldn’t donate to Jazz to help increase the size of the spark, and Prowl wasn’t even going to entertain the idea of asking Jazz if a Constructicon could fill his place. They got along well enough for what their relationship was, but he knew Jazz had pushed himself to befriend Decepticons for Prowl’s sake and Prowl wouldn’t ask something that would only add stress.

For now, he needed to set aside his emotions about his predicament and focus on supporting Jazz. “I suppose we need to talk to Hook for a doctor you can discuss your situation with. Given your health concerns and the size of the sparkling, it would be good to get you in tomorrow.”

“Heh, if not yesterorn,” Jazz commented.

Prowl stood up and helped pull Jazz up, who was definitely in a weakened state, based on his wobbly legs. “I can walk, I swear.”

“Make it out of this washrack and we’ll go from there.”

They left the washrack with Jazz tucked under Prowl’s sensory panel. The Constructicons were bunched around the door with Hook standing in front with a chair, turned to face the Constructicons. The crane ordered, “Jazz, sit. You still don’t look well.”

“Yeah,” Scavenger added, “you really don’t.”

“Gee, thanks. Way to make a person feel special.” Jazz sat in the chair. “I’ll be going shortly, don’t worry about me.”

“The Pit you are,” Hook sniped. “I gave you a moment of privacy for the exam and for you to process it, but you’re going to tell the rest of us what I told you. Then we’re going to figure out a solution.”

“And I’m going to do that why?”

“Because unless there’s more to the story than I know, Prowl’s involved and when Prowl’s involved, we’re all involved.”

Prowl tugged hard on the bond to painfully get them to settle, for he was already displeased with them upsetting Jazz moments earlier. Especially now that Jazz’s delicate state had been discovered. Scavenger yipped and the rest grimaced. Prowl spoke, “Jazz, you say only what you want to say. The rest of you, be warned: I’m not going to tolerate upsetting Jazz further.”

Jazz grumbled, “Appreciate the care, Prowl, but Hook does have a point. As I told you, there’s no one else.”

“No one else what?” Long Haul asked.

“No one else who could’ve sparked me.”

There was a round of gasps and exclaimed disbelief. Mixmaster demanded, “How is this possible?”

“Hook, be my guest on that question,” Jazz passed the conversation.

Hook frowned. “Based on the sparkling’s scanned data, Jazz’s sparkling is older than Prowl’s. That means Prowl sparked Jazz and then one of us sparked Prowl shortly afterwards.”

“Is it – he – okay?” Scavenger asked.

“Jazz and the sparkling need a doctor, one that’s not Medix or me so he doesn’t have to worry about privacy issues. I’ll start comm’ing my colleagues to see who can see him tomorrow. He can figure out if it’s a good doctor/patient fit from there.”

Jazz nodded but didn’t verbally respond. Prowl was worried and asked a question he never asked before now. “Jazz, do you want to spend the night with me in my quarters?”

Bonecrusher huffed. “They should both be here! We need to protect our sparklings.”

“‘Our’ sparklings?” Jazz echoed and Prowl sent Bonecrusher a withering glare.

Bonecrusher winced but continued. “Both are Prowl’s sparklings, and Prowl is gestalt. That’s how it works with gestalts.”

“Yeah, _noooo_ , we won’t be saying any of that about Prowl’s and _my_ sparkling.” Jazz pointed a finger back and forth between Prowl and him.

They pouted and Prowl could hear them whispering across the bond about how Jazz couldn’t stop them from thinking it. Prowl would deal with it later, as well as everything else that had happened tonight. “Jazz needs private time, so he and I will recharge in my quarters, if he so chooses.”

Jazz sighed. “Yeah, that sounds best. Hook, comm me the info for whomever I’m seeing tomorrow.”

Hook nodded and went to a cabinet on the opposite wall. He pulled out energon and passed it to Jazz. “This is medical grade energon and should get you through at least the night.”

“Thanks.”

After another breem of fussing of who would walk Jazz and Prowl back to Prowl’s quarters, Hook and Mixmaster followed the pair. Inside the quarters, when it was just the two of them, Jazz drank the medical energon and then crashed on Prowl’s berth. Prowl crawled over Jazz and wrapped himself around Jazz, wordlessly providing comfort.

* * *

Jazz was nervous in the medical room, waiting for the doctor as he sat on the berth. Prowl held his hand so he wasn’t alone until the doctor arrived. Once the doctor arrived, though, Prowl would leave so Jazz could be honest with him. Jazz said that wasn’t necessary, but Prowl insisted that he give Jazz privacy and wait outside the door with Hook. If Jazz really couldn’t handle being alone, then Prowl would come in the room. It was a sweet thing to hear from Prowl, though the irony of this being the possible tipping point of fear in the ex-saboteur’s life wasn’t lost on him. He didn’t know what to think, everything was still so surreal.

The door opened and revealed his doctor, Flatline. Unlike Prowl, Jazz didn’t have trouble with Neutrals. Even knowing that the choice to accept Flatline as a possible doctor was Jazz’s, Prowl’s hand squeezed his hand and he knew Prowl was still not enthused about it. Despite the physical reaction, Prowl didn’t vocalize his objection.

Prowl nodded to Flatline. “Be good to him.” With one last friendly squeeze, Prowl bid Jazz a short goodbye.

“See you soon,” Jazz replied.

Flatline pulled up a chair and sat so he was slightly below Jazz. “Good morning, Jazz. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Hook gave me some medical grade energon last night and this morning, and it seemed to help a little bit.”

“Yes, Hook has given me all the information he has from your scans from yesterorn. He’s concerned that this sparkling is being hard on your frame and spark. Let’s go over the symptoms and causes first.” They talked and did new scans for five breems, talking about what Hook said yesterorn about overheating frame, fuel pump going too fast, etc. as well as a few new symptoms that Jazz didn’t realize were related. Tiredness was number one, and while he suspected that was a symptom of his new situation, he didn’t realize it was spark-related. The sparkling was trying very hard to support himself by siphoning off as much as it could from Jazz.

“So, as you can see, Jazz, there’s a lot going on right now. It appears from your scanner readings, and what you’ve listed as other problems, I believe you have Scorsionis Astheture, part of the family of Calcutus Nocbanus. Calcutus Nocbanus is more simply known as ‘Spark Paralysis.’”

“Whoa, what? What is that? Am I going to be paralyzed?” Jazz wondered if now was a good time to call Prowl.

“Please relax, you need to remain relaxed for the rest of your carry. Simply put, your spark is at risk for paralysis by the sparkling. That’s really only a risk if you put large demands on your spark through your frame or spark directly, thereby draining what’s left over from the sparkling.”

“What does spark paralysis look like?” Jazz chewed his lip.

“I don’t want to scare you with too many details, but it looks like a frame having trouble operating because the spark isn’t communicating or reacting anymore. It also means your spark can’t regulate itself.”

“Is it deadly?”

Flatline patted Jazz on the knee. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You aren’t anywhere near that level of concern. Let’s just focus on what we can control now, what we can do to reduce the stress on your spark.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a way for Prowl to donate without risking his sparkling?” Unlike Prowl, Jazz had no problem telling his doctor his full situation.

“No, a carrying spark will not part with any spark energy. Unless you’re willing to find a partner with a good spark, literally speaking, you will have to go through other measures to give yourself a chance.”

“And the sparkling? How will it – he – recover from being so small?”

“The more you rest, the more your spark regenerates on its own, the more it can help the sparkling. It’ll be a hard process, I warn you.”

“Okay… What do I need to do, besides rest?”

“Honestly, that’s the best thing you can do,” Flatline confirmed. “Perhaps spend as much time you can with someone who can take care of you, who isn’t carrying himself.”

“Who?”

“I don’t suppose Hook is an option?”

“That’s Prowl’s thing, not mine.”

“Okay, do you have anyone?” Flatline asked.

Truthfully, most of Jazz’s friends were spread out, on the _Lost Light_ , or not equipped to handle something like this. “I’ll figure it out.”

They talked for another half breem before Jazz was ready to leave. He stepped out and saw Prowl and Hook sitting in chairs near his door, Prowl with a distant look on his face as he faced the door and Hook staring intently at the same spot. Upon seeing Jazz exit, Hook moved quickly, his larger steps meeting with Jazz faster than Prowl.

“Are you okay?” Hook asked, with almost uncharacteristic concerned about a non-gestalt member. Then Jazz remembered he was now tied to the gestalt more closely than just being a partner of Prowl’s.

“I’ll be fine.” First he would talk to Prowl.

When Flatline exited behind him, Hook looked to Flatline’s face. “I see that,” Hook sarcastically noted.

“What’s that, Hook?” Flatline asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I know that expression.”

“You know nothing.”

Hook _hurumphed_. “Let’s go, I’m sure Jazz and Prowl need to talk.”

Jazz could see the subtle signs of worry cross Prowl’s face. He wondered if Hook said anything to Prowl over the bond.

They headed to Prowl’s quarters, the drive and then walk almost silent with some small talk. At Prowl’s door, Hook frowned. “If either of you need something, let us know.”

“We’ll be fine,” Prowl excused as he walked through the door, Jazz close behind him.

Prowl turned around and touched Jazz’s elbow. “Do you need to sit?”

“No, but I probably should.” Jazz reached for Prowl’s hand, squeezed, and then made his way to Prowl’s dining table.

“Why?”

“I need to rest more. Like as much as I can.” Jazz sighed. “I’m basically confined to resting as much as feasible.”

“Why?”

Jazz did his best to use Flatline’s words. “I have some weird sounding condition that’s part of the ‘spark paralysis’ family. Basically, I’m at risk of spark paralysis if my sparkling or spark struggles too much, which leads to frame and spark problems.”

Prowl grabbed the other chair and pulled it close to Jazz. He sat down with his knees touching Jazz’s. “What can I do?”

He had to think about that request. “Let me stay here tonight?” He really didn’t want to be alone after being nearly overwhelmed with news.

“Of course. I’ll have a Constructicon bring us energon. After all, we’re supposed to keep our energy levels up.”

“Heh, right. We’re both sparked.” Jazz shook his helm. “Such a weird situation.”

“Indeed. Normally one does not spark another only to get sparked himself by a mystery sire.”

Jazz laughed, the first legitimate laugh he’d had in a few orns. “We’ll have the most unique family on all of Cybertron.”

“Why limit it to Cybertron? We’ll have the most unique family of all Cybertronians, colonies included.”

“And their neighboring planets,” he joked. _Family…_ Jazz belatedly started to marvel at that word as the small joke came to a pause.

Prowl smiled, as small as it was, only for it to falter a klik later and turn into a frown. Jazz frowned as well and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I asked the Constructicons to send someone our way with energon, and now they’re all coming. Something about Hook’s concerns what Flatline’s face showing enough worry that even Hook isn’t pushing back on account of patient confidentiality.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

“Scavenger was the one who described it, and sometimes he is.”

Jazz’s frown deepened as he thought of what it meant, for all of them to be coming. “Maybe I should go back to my own quarters before they all get here.”

“Please don’t,” Prowl requested. “I can tell them to get lost and leave you alone. Leave us alone.”

“Would they actually leave you alone?”

Prowl hesitated. “Not when they have the bond to pester me with.”

Jazz’s mouth twitched. Maybe he should say something, if only to alleviate Prowl from the Constructicons nagging him for details on Prowl’s sired sparkling. “Fine, I’ll tell them what I told you.”

Prowl looked relieved. “Thank you.”

It took a few breems before Prowl’s quarters were crowded. Jazz sat on the berth with Prowl by his side, as the pair figured Jazz should be resting as he delivered the news.

Hook started, “What’s going on, Jazz?”

Mixmaster added, “Yeah, what’s up with you and Flatline?”

Jazz resisted the urge to rub his face at what he knew was coming. “I have some weird sounding condition that basically means ‘spark paralysis by carrying.’”

“Scorsionis Astheture,” Hook supplied. “It can be a very serious condition,” he mentioned with shrewd optics.

“It’s not that serious,” Jazz argued when four other sets of optics went wide in alarm. “So long as I take it easy, nothing bad is going to happen.”

Bonecrusher pressed his lips. “Nothing bad is going to happen, because we’re going to protect you.”

“Say what?” Jazz blinked behind his visor. “I don’t need protection; I just need rest.”

Long Haul argued, “We keep tabs on you, Jazz, and what we hear is stuff that’s going to bother you regardless of rest break. Things you’re going to struggle with saying no to, like requests for performances.”

How did they get to know him that well? “How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”

Long Haul shrugged. “Since the bond showed us that Prowl had optics for you.”

Prowl huffed. “Even I didn’t know that, and they’re rarely quiet on the bond. Everyone who isn’t Jazz, we’re going to have _another_ chat later.”

Jazz replied over the mumblings of the Constructicons. “Well aside from personal boundary violations, I still don’t need you to protect me.”

Mixmaster muttered, “Too bad, you’re getting it anyways.”

Jazz groaned. Now that he was tied to the Constructicons in a more ways this was going to be a long carry.


	6. Chapter 6

The symptoms of carrying began impacting Prowl the next deca-orn, and he still had just over five deca-orns to go before the sparkling even descended into the gestation chamber. Most of his symptoms were tiredness, high levels of energy consumption, and a bloated feeling in his abdomen from the preparing gestation chamber. Not to mention some of his plating was now more sensitive, even some that seemed random, like his chevron. His sensory panels were becoming a real issue.

There were two things more frustrating than not succumbing to his symptoms, and that was hiding them from the Constructicons and hiding the carry from others. Prowl wasn’t about to share he was carrying until he _had_ to share, when he could no longer transform because of his gestation chamber. He and Jazz agreed that others didn’t need to know before it was impossible for them to hide. They hadn’t yet decided how to explain their situation, if they were going to do so at all. Both knew they probably would do so eventually, or else Prowl would have to deny his sired sparkling in public, but they wouldn’t do so before necessary.

As it was, Prowl was almost crawling out of his berth into his quiet quarters, tired and trying not to set off anything sensitive. Jazz was recharging in his, needing his own space for a moment. Based on what Prowl could feel from the bond, something that was always there when he first onlined every orn, four Constructicons were outside Prowl’s door, and Scavenger was outside of Jazz’s.

Prowl frowned. ~Scavenger, get out of there. Jazz won’t be pleased.~

~But Prowl! Jazz needs us, and we were talking and thought maybe Jazz wouldn’t be so mad if it was me.~

~Where on Cybertron did you five come up with that notion?~

~I’m the more sociable one.~

Prowl pinched the bridge of his nose. ~Get out of there,~ he ordered.

Hook butted into the conversation. ~Prowl, Jazz shouldn’t even come out of his quarters for the orn. He has energon for the orn, so there’s no issue. He shouldn’t even know Scavenger is there.~

~Then Scavenger has no reason to be there.~

Bonecrusher loudly argued, ~The sparkling is a gestalt sparkling, he will be protected like a gestalt sparkling.~

~So that means angering a sick carrier?~

Murmuring from the Constructicons echoed as they thought over that point. Hook sounded reluctant when he said, ~Scavenger, come to Prowl’s quarters. We need to talk some more.~

Prowl was tempted to send all of them away as well, but he knew that was a harder argument to win since they had become increasingly paranoid as Megatron’s trial drew close, and now it was finally the orn of opening arguments. They repeatedly told him in he was in harm’s way as the prosecutor of the Decepticon’s former leader. He hadn’t yet convinced them that he lived a life being in harm’s way, that he was already conditioned to look out for himself and survive.

His first task was to clean and then polish some areas in need of touchup. As he cleaned he couldn’t help notice the bond being active and assumed it was because of the Constructicons being sour over Prowl’s order. How strange that it felt like there was a piece of the bond so much closer than normal, as if pressed up against his spark. The presence was dancing, and he couldn’t fathom which Constructicon would be that happy. For now he ignored it.

After finishing his polish touchups, he walked out and they greeted him. Mixmaster added, “Feeling better, Prowl?”

“I feel fine.”

“You do realize you broadcast your true feelings every morning when you first online, right?”

“What?” Prowl was alarmed.

The Constructicon shrugged. “Takes skill to wake up without doing that. Anyway, you still tired? Maybe you should have one of your underlings work.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some energon with higher potency.”

Hook shook his helm. “Can’t let you have that. It’s bad for you and could be bad for the sparkling.”

Prowl gritted his dentae and hot air blew out his air vents. He resisted rubbing his sensitive chassis as the hot air danced across it and gave him a prickling feeling. Doing so would probably set off a reaction if they saw it. “Fine, I can still make it with regular energon. I’m not having an ‘underling’ run the trial.”

It had been some time since he was with all five Constructicons as they lately rotated shifts, and Prowl found himself falling back into the lead position of the large construction convoy. They arrived at the stadium-styled courtroom and Prowl ordered them to the stands, only to be met with vehement protests. Bonecrusher firmly stated, “We’re staying with you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, least of all when everyone from Cybertron is watching.”

“Then we’ll stay at the door for when you enter and leave the arena,” Long Haul replied.

“That will attract a lot of attention and questions,” Prowl warned.

“It’s us here at the door, or us pushing our way in. Pick one.”

Prowl pressed his lips. “Draw as little attention to yourselves as you can from this doorway.” As little attention as lumbering, green/purple mechs that used to work for Megatron could, anyway.

He entered the stadium while the stands weren’t full. Despite his eagerness to be the one putting Megatron away, he had never done this before now. His time spent as an enforcer didn’t double as time spent as a prosecutor. He had seen plenty of court proceedings, and had testified as the arresting enforcer a few times, so he wasn’t unaware of what to do. Hopefully that was enough.

Prowl squirmed when there was a weird flutter in his chassis. It felt like it was _by_ his spark, rather than his spark itself. It was similar to the gestalt bond, but not quite it. What could that be?

His vents hitched as he drew one conclusion of what could cause a non-gestalt bond sensation near his spark: he was feeling his sparkling. He turned inward, completely forgetting his nervousness as a first-time prosecutor and now nervous as a first-time carrier. Prowl tried feeling around with his spark but was unable to feel anything beyond the strange sensation of a spark flutter that wasn’t his spark.

Before he knew it there was a thunderous applause and he looked up to see a full stadium clapping. He saw Optimus Prime entering the arena, a judge’s crown adorning his helm. As Prime passed Prowl, the leader of the Autobots greeted him simply. “Hello, Prowl.”

“Good morning, Prime.”

Nothing else was exchanged; Prowl knew Prime was focus on propriety and making sure it didn’t look like prosecution and judge were in collusion. Prowl slightly shivered as Prime passed by him, the air currents of his large frame waffling across his sensory panels. Luckily, Optimus wasn’t looking at him.

Shortly after Prime settled into his seat the air was filled with boos and shouts, and Prowl knew they could see Megatron, his defense attorney, and the escorting guards at the door. Prowl turned and confirmed his theory, seeing Ultra Magnus lead the procession of the guilty, or so Prowl called it.

The hostile air only settled when Optimus silenced them, when Megatron and his team were situated so that Megatron could stand and give his plea once Prowl read the charges. Prowl stood up and started, “Megatron of Tarn, you stand accused of crimes against the species…”

* * *

Jazz watched the trial from his room, his earlier boredom of his secret confinement now evaporated, replaced by anxiety for Prowl. He knew nothing bad would happen to Prowl, especially since he suspected the Constructicons were somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t help it.

The ex-saboteur knew this trial was barely beginning, even though they knew Megatron was pleading guilty. Prowl had built a deca-orn long trial to prove how guilty Megatron was of crimes against the species (and other species), with several more testimonies in reserve so he could extend it much further if something happened. As the second-in-command of the Autobot army, or at least something like that for what was left in this post-war world, Prowl knew what Optimus was thinking and he wanted to force a harsh verdict. He wanted to reinforce that leniency was not to be given.

To his credit, Jazz watched as long as he could muster attention. After everything settled into a rhythm of testimonies asking similar questions, Jazz managed to make it to the fifth one before low energy levels beckoned him to sleep. Maybe some energon first.

Like Prowl, he was also suffering from sensitive plating but he was also suffering from a sensitive tank. Yesterorn Prowl and Hook brought Jazz some medical grade energon meant to soothe his stomach. It was after he accepted it that Hook proudly revealed Mixmaster and he had improved it. Both Prowl and Jazz were alarmed and the ensuing conversation lasted a half joor. Eventually Jazz was willing to try Hook’s and Mixmaster’s concoction once.

The flavor was very mildly sweet, Jazz decided as he sipped it. Perhaps they knew and had taken into account his preference of sweet over acidic. When it hit his tank there was no resulting nausea, like what happened with his morning energon. All in all, it was what he needed and he drank a few more gulps. That was enough to test how its effects on his frame and he set it down to rest in front of the TV again.

He fully intended to focus on the television, but the weird spark sensation peaked again as he felt better from the energon. He’d long given up on trying to understand the weird spark sensations that started four orns ago. It was never painful and that was key, because weird was something he could handle alone until he saw Flatline in another two orns. If he asked Hook then who knows what the resulting reaction would ensue.

A chime at the door interrupted his thoughts. Who could that be? Wasn’t the whole world watching the trial?

The door opened to reveal Sky-Byte. He smiled and requested, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Jazz replied.

Sky-Byte looked at Jazz’s TV and frowned. “It’s a sad orn to see Megatron sport the Autobot symbol as he undergoes this fallacy of a trial.”

Jazz’s frown was deeper. “You do remember you’re talking to an Autobot, right?” Prowl’s and his relationship was pretty quiet and almost no one knew. Certainly not Sky-Byte.

“Right, right, right,” the shark responded.

“Why are you here, if we have different opinions on one of the biggest event of Cybertron’s recent history?”

“I’ve got some poems I’d like to share at Maccadam's, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to play in the background?”

“I’m guessing tonight?” This confinement was really hurting his finances. When Sky-Byte nodded, he continued. “Sorry, mech, prior engagements.”

“I see. Then I guess I’ll be going.” Sky-Byte turned and made it a step before turning his helm back. “I take it I should tell Blurr ‘no’ for you as well?”

“Come again?”

“Blurr is planning to comm you and ask if you’d play a small concert for Maccadam’s tonight after open mic night is done. Guess it’s a no, though.”

Pit, he would love that. He really wanted to go, and the credits would be good. “I doubt I can make it but let him comm me. Maybe other night.” He knew his carry would be a while longer, but maybe his rest requirement would be lifted before too long?

“Will do. Take care.”

When Jazz was alone, he flopped on his couch. Would half a joor of sitting on a stage instead of laying on his couch really be that different? There was that weird spark spike sensation again.

Blurr’s call came when the trial took a break. ::Hey, Jazz, how are you doing?::

::Pretty good, Blurr. How are you?::

::Oh you know, busy as always.:: Blurr laughed. ::Watching the trial?::

::Of course, who isn’t?::

::Some Decepticons refuse, but yeah, who isn’t?::

They chatted a few more kliks before Blurr asked, ::You interested in playing on inaugural night of the trial?::

::Pit, of course I am. Just not available.:: He wasn’t entirely successful at keeping the disappointment out of his voice.

::Make yourself available!::

::What about another night?::

::Another night isn’t inaugural night,:: Blurr pointed out.

If he napped beforehand, if he play for just a half-joor, if he refueled before and after… ::How about the last half-joor of your little concert?::

::Can do! Here’s the info.:: Jazz received the information on the concert and when Jazz needed to be there.

He nervously smiled. He should be fine. He’d make it up to his sparkling by using getting him a nice toy.

* * *

Prowl was exhausted when the trial ended for the orn. He didn’t want to transform and drive home, but he needed to keep up pretenses. His guard for the bond was tenuously holding in place. So long as they didn’t accidently assault his barrier, he should be all right.

“Prowl?” Scavenger called when they were all alone in a side hallway to the outdoors.

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should spend the night in our quarters.”

“I will be fine in mine.”

Hook approached Prowl from the side. “We can see your exhaustion. We know you’re trying to hide it, and when someone like you lets the mask slip, it must be bad.”

Long Haul approached from the other side and Prowl looked back and forth. “Yeah, Boss, you need help getting ready for recharge.”

~And what exactly can you help with, without triggering any of my symptoms?~ he challenged.

Bonecrusher suggested, ~We can get you energon without you having to move and set off sensitive plating.~

Mixmaster pleaded, ~Give us a chance, Prowl. We never get to indulge you.~

~Yeah, give us a chance,~ Scavenger pouted and then the rest started echoing his words with a tugging sensation that was their way of pleading.

He didn’t have the energy to fight them. ~One chance.~

When they arrived to the Constructicons quarters, Prowl softly groaned when he entered and made his way to the berth. He really didn’t have the energy to fetch his own energon, and he hadn’t had much during trial breaks. It was a habit of his, to drink whenever he desperately needed it instead of proactively. His face sunk into the berth as he laid on his front, the only position comfortable for his sensory panels.

Hook _tsk’ed_. “Prowl, I know you haven’t listened to me in the past when I said you need to refuel better, but for Primus’s sake, you _need_ to refuel better. Just look at you.”

“I’ll be fine,” came his muffled reply. He tilted his helm so his words could be heard more clearly. “It’s just been a challenging orn. It’ll get easier when I have the process structured better. The trial shouldn’t last more than a deca-orn, anyways.”

“But you still didn’t when you had a structured schedule,” Scavenger quietly pointed out.

Prowl glared at him. “Just give me the energon, with a straw so I can sip it without sitting up.”

The tactician was partway through his energon while half laying down, half sitting, when Mixmaster cursed and _upset_ was broadcasted across the bond. All the Constructicons looked to Mixmaster with alarm, while Prowl looked on curiously.

Long Haul asked, “What’s up?”

“You know how I secretly supply Blurr the good stuff he serves ad Maccadam’s?” Mixmaster started.

“You do?” Prowl asked. That would explain how they were surviving better than just on Hook’s medic income.

“Yeah, I do. Well, Blurr just messaged me for an urgent case of some of my best stuff because everyone is so drunk off the trial and the good music being played by _Jazz_.”

Outraged cries filled the air and Prowl gagged on his energon. Bonecrusher clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’m going down there and fetching him.”

Long Haul frowned. “I’m going with you.”

“Wait,” Prowl ordered as he sat up, only to nearly fall back. He tried to hide it but failed. Instantly Hook and Scavenger were at his side and helping him up.

“Prowl, you’re not going,” Hook said.

“If any one of you go, I go. You’re not cornering Jazz and upsetting him. Not like last time.”

“We won’t upset him,” Long Haul protested.

“You all have the tact of an unschooled sparkling bully. You will if I let you.”

Scavenger’s face twitched. “Maybe he’s got a point. Jazz will be calmer if Prowl talks to him.”

“Prowl should stay here, with Hook watching him,” Bonecrusher argued.

Prowl started moving off the berth. “Or maybe Hook should be with Jazz to make sure nothing sets off a bad chain reaction with his health. You know how Hook can watch both Jazz and me? If I go.”

Hook grumbled, “Prowl is going to fight us the entire time, and he’s right. I need to watch both of them. I say we all go.”

He watched them talk amongst themselves before the Constructicons concurred for Prowl to come with them. Prowl nodded, and after one last sip, they left for Maccadam’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven’t read MTMTE #28 and didn’t catch it, Ultra Magnus is Megatron’s defense attorney. Prime appointed him the position.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magna marches are supposed to sound like jazz music.

Jazz had made sure he rested as much as he could before his performance with his electro-bass, and during the performance he stayed on his stool as he was joined by rotating singers. Even when he wanted to move with the beat, he maintained resting on that stool. Everyone was excited, and the atmosphere was so upbeat. He was just glad the trial was over for the orn so Prowl could retire.

The musician could’ve sworn he felt himself being stared down near the end of his second-to-last set. He kept playing and paused only for a klik between songs to find the source of the eerie feeling, his optics landing on large forms and one standard-sized frame. Oh no, not the Constructicons and Prowl.

His start for his next song almost faltered but he recovered with a new chord before getting back into the rhythm of the music. They would let him finish his music, or at least Prowl would make sure they did. He wouldn’t let them embarrass Jazz on stage.

When the set ended, he exited out the backstage and looked for either them or Blurr, whichever came first. He wasn’t certain how to feel when it was them.

“Jazz, what are you doing?” barked Bonecrusher.

“Yeah, Jazz, what gives?” Mixmaster added.

“Quiet,” Prowl ordered to the Constructicons. Based on the subsequent pouting looks on the silent faces, Jazz was glad he couldn’t feel the bond. Prowl looked to Jazz. “We heard you were playing and were concerned.”

“I rested all orn, okay? I made sure to keep it easy while on stage.”

“Technically you did not rest all orn, you rested most of the orn,” Prowl pointed out. “Are you done?”

“I was just looking for Blurr to tell him I think that was it for me, that my last set is a no-go.” He was a bit salty about that, but he knew he had no winning argument against Prowl. Why debate someone who mastered arguing?

Prowl nodded. “Would you like to come back to my quarters?” His offer was met by alarmed looks by the Constructicons.

“I’d rather stay in my quarters if I’m to be confined again.” Maybe his saltiness wasn’t entirely checked. He was a bit moody these orns and sometimes it escaped him.

For once Prowl didn’t argue, although Jazz could see the look in his optics. Instead, Prowl nodded. “You can do what you want. I can stay with you or you can relax privately.”

“Privately.” He had nothing against Prowl, but with his mood he’d be poor company. Jazz held out his electro-bass. “Prowl, can you hold this so I can find Blurr? Then I’ll pack up.”

“Certainly. Any particular way I’m supposed to hold it?”

“Like I’m doing now.” He carefully handed it off to Prowl, who held it gently. It was a little endearing to see Prowl hold his instrument so preciously.

Jazz found Blurr in the storage area behind the bar area. “Blurr?” he called as he approached.

“Jazz?” Blurr looked up from his bent over position. “Aren’t you supposed to get ready for the next set?”

“Yeah…” he was so embarrassed. “Change of plans, I’m afraid. I’ve been feeling ill and I thought if I kept it easy I’d be fine, but now it’s creeping up on me.”

“Are you okay?” Blurr stood up.

“Yeah, I will be. Rest cures just about all,” Jazz tried to joke, but his tone fell flat.

Blurr chewed his lower lip. “I’ve been wondering about that. I know you haven’t been around as much lately, and I heard from a few patrons you were resting. You’ve even told me a couple of times. How much rest do you _need_?”

“Uh…” Jazz shrugged. “Just recovering from something pretty persistent. Don’t worry; it’s not contagious.”

“I see, okay then. If you need to go, feel free. Everyone’s pretty drunk now and probably won’t notice if we switch to radio early.”

“Thanks, mech, you’re awesome.”

The scene Jazz returned to was interesting. Prowl looked exasperated and the Constructicons were pawing at him as if begging for something.

“What’s going on?” Jazz asked when they saw him approach.

Hook went first. “Jazz, we think it’s time we Constructicons took you and Prowl out for a nice orn. Relax without being cooped up in someone’s quarters.”

“And I said I have trial for the next three orns,” Prowl grumbled.

“On the fourth orn we could do it,” Scavenger suggested.

Jazz wasn’t much keen on spending time with them. “I’m not great company right now.”

“Come on,” Scavenger pleaded, “it’ll be relaxing. You’ll get a chance to reset. Just be you but without the stress of doing things.”

“Yeah,” Long Haul agreed.

“Really not in the mood,” Jazz tried again.

“How will you know if you are or aren’t four orns from now? Please just say maybe,” Scavenger asked.

Hook nodded. “We’ll all make sure it’s a nice outing and you won’t have to worry about stress.”

Jazz sighed at the wall he seemed to be hitting. “Fine, I’ll be a maybe.” He wasn’t anticipating his ‘maybe’ becoming a ‘yes.’

Prowl curiously looked at him. “I’ll be a maybe as well.”

Bonecrusher looked at the rest, relief on his face while Scavenger looked hopeful. Jazz suspected they weren’t going to leave him alone for the next three orns.

* * *

Jazz was right that they didn’t leave him alone the following orn and the next, right up to his appointment with Flatline. Multiple times an orn they kept bringing him energon with little musical or artistic trinkets they found. It was one at a time and they rotated, so he asked on the morning of the second orn why they weren’t all watching Prowl. Mixmaster explained they were guarding him, but four at a time instead of five.

Just before his appointment his lunch was brought to him by Hook. “Have some and then we’ll go.”

Jazz nodded and sipped it from the doorway, like he usually did when they brought him energon. He wasn’t in the habit of inviting them inside his place, and a quick meal before a doctor’s appointment wasn’t a good enough reason to start.

Their travel went normally, with a little small talk and some awkwardness because Jazz wasn’t used to this level of attention. The uneasiness he normally felt when they were around him without Prowl was often paired with that unusual, weird spark feeling and this time was no exception.

Once he was inside the room with Flatline, he immediately answered Flatline’s inquiry about his health, “I’m doing okay, save for a totally strange chassis or spark feel. Think it’s spark-related. You don’t think it’s that spark paralysis thing, do you? It hasn’t been painful in the least.” Jazz bit his lip to stop talking.

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s usually just sudden bursts of energy or a buzzing feel, maybe fluttering? I don’t know, it’s so strange that I can’t describe it really.”

“Does it feel like a piece of yourself, except it sometimes happens independently of how you feel?”

“Yes,” Jazz nodded.

“And when you feel something strong, do you feel a belated sensation that’s similar to what you feel, but somehow doesn’t match?”

“Yes!” he was relieved to hear something that he was going through was probably normal, based on Flatline’s kind tone.

“Then I have good news for you, Jazz. That’s your sparkling.”

“Say what?” Jazz blinked under his visor.

“Everything you’ve described is signs of a living sparkling. How long has this been going on?”

He was feeling his sparkling? His expression became slack and Jazz put a hand over his chassis, as if that would help him feel his sparkling in that instant. There was a pull deep within his spark to turn inward and focus on his sparkling, but he knew he needed to focus on the visit. “I’ve been noticing it for at least six orns now.”

“Hmm, well I would’ve expected sooner than that. I’d been wondering since your last visit because you said nothing, but I wanted to hear from you first rather than risk worrying you. Your sparkling is a little behind in development but take this as a sign he’s gaining strength.”

“Okay.” Jazz’s fingers curled as if he could grasp the little one around his spark. There! He could feel a little blip of energy pulsing stronger by his spark before it settled back down and disappeared into the white noise of his own spark. His sparkling was telling him that he was growing stronger.

Jazz was so hopeful and cheery after his appointment that Hook kept giving him curious glances but didn’t press when Jazz just said it was a good visit. Jazz wanted to tell Prowl first about feeling his sparkling.

When they reached Jazz’s quarters they saw Scavenger. “What’s up?” Jazz asked.

The power shovel looked at him with a shy expression as he hid his hands behind his back and said, “I have something for you, but I was hoping to lay it out on something soft to show you.”

“… Sure.” He was still in a good mood, so he could change things up and allow him inside.

Hook left to take Scavenger’s place watching Prowl, and Jazz lead Scavenger to his table. He grabbed a large cloth to lay down, fully expected he would need to wash dirt off it soon. However, the Constructicon surprised him when he laid down a clean Cybertronian instrument, one similar to a guitar but styled for magna marches. It would have been beautiful if someone took care of it, he sadly noted as he looked over the rustic signs of aging and poor care. The cracks alone made him wince.

Scavenger looked to him, his expression never changing from the shy glance. “We were wondering if you could teach us how to restore it.”

Jazz blinked and his mouth made a slight ‘O’ in surprise. “Yeah, sure.” An appreciation for music and arts was a soft spot for him, and this was probably as much appreciation as the Constructicons understood.

Scavenger’s optics smiled and he carefully picked up the instrument. “Great, we’ll see you tomorrow at lunch time, at Prowl’s quarters. We’ve got plans elsewhere, but it’s a good starting point.” He excused himself.

Jazz stared at the fleeing frame as it clicked, and he cursed. Of course they would find a way to get him to agree to their outing plans.

* * *

Prowl was exhausted the morning of their outing. He wanted to cancel but they had broken him down with promises they would make more efforts to behave better if he went with them. Not to mention it was the first he would be seeing Jazz since Jazz’s doctor appointment. He knew it went well when they talked over comms, but he heard from Hook that Jazz was all smiles and that made Prowl more eager to see his struggling partner, to see his smile return to his beautiful face. He wondered if it had anything to do with his own reason for smiling, if Jazz was feeling his sparkling, too. He feared asking because Jazz and his sparkling were weak, and he didn’t know what that meant for the bonding process.

As he stood outside his quarters, he impulsively rubbed his sensitive chassis when a blip in his spark chamber was accompanied with a prickly feeling, before belatedly remembering other bystanders might see him and he dropped his hand down.

“Hello, Jazz,” Prowl said when he saw a familiar figure round a hallway corner.

“Hey ya, Prowl,” Jazz answered with a bright smile. He looked about the hall. “Where are they?”

“Running late. Based on the bond, I’d say they are very excited about this.”

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Prowl realized he was rubbing his chassis again. “Ah, yes. You know how it is.”

“Heh, yeah, just a tad.”

Prowl watched Jazz curiously. Did Jazz truly know? Hopefully they would have a private moment after the outing and Jazz would immediately bless Prowl with good news so Prowl could return the favor.

Three of the Constructicons appeared: Hook, Mixmaster, and Scavenger. Hook looked them over. ~They both look strong enough to make it to our spot,~ he declared.

Prowl frowned. ~Exactly what is this ‘outing’ you’ve planned?~

~You’ll see,~ Mixmaster gleefully answered.

Jazz asked, “What’s the plan?”

Mixmaster sighed. “You’ll see,” he repeated to the bondless mech. “Now let’s transform and you can follow us.”

They took them to an empty area, away from the crowded living areas and bustling streets. The area had makeshift lights all around, the small mismatch lanterns illuminating a pathway to a courtyard in front of a one-story unpainted building. In the courtyard were the other two Constructicons with two tables set up, one with energon and the second with the guitar.

Scavenger moved to the guitar. “See, Jazz? It’s ready for you to show me how to restore it.”

Jazz approached the table. “Looks like you got most of the stuff. I’ve got the rest at my place, but this is enough to start for now.”

Long Haul raised his voice just enough so all could hear him. “Let’s have energon first.”

They sat down, Prowl and Jazz next to each by the special energon drinks. Initially the discussions were difficult in finding a topic they could all enjoy until Prowl asked about the musical instrument. “What is it, Jazz?”

“It’s called a miall, and it has similarities to an Earth guitar, except it’s made for magna marches.”

“I don’t know much of magna marches,” Prowl confessed. “Can you teach me more about it?”

“Sure, and if we do enough work on the miall before leaving here, I can even play a simple tune.”

“I would love to hear that.”

Jazz softly smiled and squeezed Prowl’s hand. “So the thing about magna marches…” He talked and answered everyone’s earnest questions.

As the conversation dwindled down, Prowl felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, watching Jazz get along so well with the gestalt while doing things that didn’t require effort on Prowl’s part. As his general sense of stress died down, however, he started to note areas around his frame were hurting. Areas such as his sensory panel hinges.

The sudden realization how much his body hurt made it across the bond, as all the Constructicons stopped and exchanged looks to each other. They seemed to come together and form one conclusion, when Mixmaster offered Prowl, “Need a massage?”

“Um,” Prowl was startled by the uncharacteristic offer.

“Yeah,” Scavenger joined in while casting a glance at Jazz. “What about you, Jazz? You both have been looking real tense for a while.”

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher noted. “Like way to tense for carriers.”

Prowl and Jazz exchanged uncertain looks. Prowl’s joints ached for relief, but these were five of the Decepticon’s biggest brutes. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t see how your hands are built for such careful work.” In all their interfacing, they hadn’t exactly massaged him softly.

“We’re construction workers!” Long Haul rebutted. “We can do large work and fine tuning. Just let us try.”

“If Jazz is game, then I suppose.” Prowl hadn’t meant to put the pressure on Jazz, but he thought it strange if he accepted and Jazz didn’t. Truthfully, Prowl was now too keenly aware of his physical stress to say no to his gestalt if it weren’t for the potential awkwardness.

Jazz seemed to read his mind. “I’m not normally one for massages outside of my partners, but my ankle struts and a few other places are killing me well enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Hook reassured them both, “nothing more than what you’re comfortable with. If that just means ankle strut massages, then so be it.”

It took some time and attempted gentle cajoling, but eventually three were working on Prowl and two working on Jazz. Shoulders were the main area for both carriers, but ankle struts weren’t far behind.

Hook paused in his ministrations on Jazz’s shoulders, asking if they were feeling better. When Jazz and Prowl confirmed their normal stress had disappeared, Long Haul moved to stand in front of both of them. “Now is a good time to check out the building.”

“I say it’s a good time to check out the miall,” Scavenger spoke up.

Mixmaster concurred with Scavenger, “We have a plan. Let’s work on the miall.”

Bonecrusher complained, “The plan is too long. Let’s learn the miall restoration after we’ve toured the building.”

Prowl and Jazz glanced at each other as the Constructicon stopped doting over them and grouped up to argue over instrument or building first. Prowl interjected, “What’s so special about this building?”

The five green/purple mechs looked at each other uneasily until Long Haul said to them, “Building first. Then we can talk about the building over the miall restoration.”

“Fine,” they all agreed.

Long Haul looked to Prowl and Jazz. “Come into the building and we’ll show you what’s special about it.”

“Pretty sure this is how human horror stories start,” Jazz humorously groused.

The building looked typical for this section of Cybertron on the outside: overall intact but with superficial damage. Upon further inspection Prowl could see patches were more serious damage had occurred. Someone (or someones) had taken time to make this building ready for occupation.

Whatever he expected on the inside he would have been wrong. It was a sprawling with open commons area and four doors along two walls. The commons area had a grand kitchen, a large table capable of fitting all of them, and a massive living room with a TV. Almost all of it matched with a light color scheme, with occasional mismatch pieces filling in gaps.

Prowl walked to the island in the kitchen and brushed his fingertips against the surface. It was cool to the touch and made of good metal. This was a well-constructed commons area.

Jazz walked towards the empty media shelves in the living room. “What goes here?”

Hook in-vented deeply and the rest of the Constructicons did the same. The crane said, “We put them in because you have a lot of media for vid and music. You can keep them in your room if you’d rather, but we wanted to give you options.”

Jazz paused and then slowly turned back. “I’m sorry, what?”

Prowl also turned from his position and swiftly crossed the floor to his gestalt. “Explain.”

Bonecrusher said, “We made these quarters for all of us and – _oof_!” Mixmaster elbowed him in the side.

Scavenger tried, “We don’t like how we’re all separated.”

Hook added, “Especially when I’m the only medic and need better access to you two.”

Long Haul continued, “So we made these quarters for all of us.” He pointed to each door. “Jazz’s room, Prowl’s room, our room, and the washrack. Plus there’s still space to expand and make the sparklings’ room when they’re old enough.”

The two non-Constructicons looked around the commons area of the building-sized quarters. Prowl stated, “You want Jazz and I to live here with you.”

“Yes,” Hook confirmed.

Jazz shook his helm. “That’s a bit much.”

Scavenger looked at Jazz with earnest. “But Jazz, you need help most of all.”

“You, the rest of the Constructicons, and I aren’t exactly friends.” At their hurt expressions he quickly added, “Friendly, yes, but not totally friends. Thanks for the offer, but not sure I can take you up on it.”

Prowl looked to Jazz and felt along the bond, digging for any sort of plotting. They eagerly let him dig through their thoughts and memories, showing him that they intended nothing but to care for Jazz and him. It left him baffled.

“How private are the rooms?” He asked. Jazz peered at him questioningly.

“Totally soundproof, and large!” Scavenger excitedly answered. “I mean, we added an emergency system all over this building in case one of you needs help, but we can’t use it to spy on you.”

“Jazz, how attached are you to your assigned quarters?”

Jazz pressed his lips. “Not too attached, but here, Prowl?”

“Can you think of anything else better we can customize to our new growing family?”

The ex-saboteur fell silent and he looked around, but this time his facial expression was thoughtful. “Here our sparklings can grow up together.”

“Yes!” The Constructicons cheered.

“Yes,” Prowl agreed with a soft smile. “This arrangement would make it much easier for our sparklings to be brothers. I wish to live here, where my sparkling may have room to play. I hope he can play with his brother.”

Jazz looked at Prowl with a soft smile. “I would love that too.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve taken lines straight from the comics. I’m going to do that in a few chapters because sometimes the canon fits and I figure if you have the comics and love them, then you can loosely follow along if you so desire.

Unfortunately, Prowl couldn’t get the privacy he wanted to share his news, let alone ask if Jazz had any, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before they would have a chance. Soon they’d only be a door away from total privacy together.

So instead, the following orn everything went back to normal as he returned to trial. Prowl was questioning Starscream, who immediately annoyed the carrier with his self-introduction. “Starscream. Lord Starscream, high chancellor of…”

Prowl let him finish but otherwise ignored him. “Hm. And during the war you served as Megatron’s _what_ , exactly?”

Talking to Starscream throughout his testimony grated his nerve sensors since the “high chancellor” had opted to make himself a witness for defense, especially when Starscream proclaimed he was here to explain Megatron. Prowl didn’t have time to waste fancying someone like the former Decepticon but he was forced to do so, least he reveal not only that he was carrying, but that his carrying was tiring him out faster than he anticipated. How could standing around and guiding witnesses/victims to say their piece during a trial take so much energy?

Eventually Starscream’s words ended with calling for pitying Megatron and Ultra Magnus requested a suspension of the court so Megatron and he could talk privately. It was granted and Prowl was relieved because he could sneak off for a few breems to rest.

“Boss, you okay?” Bonecrusher asked as Prowl walked back. This time it was just Bonecrusher and Long Haul, as Hook was with Jazz and the rest were already moving the Constructicons’ stuff into the new quarters. Next orn they would move Jazz’s things, and then when the trial concluded they would move Prowl. It was a few more orns off, but Prowl told himself he could make it.

“I need to rest in my private office.”

“Got it, Boss. Lead the way.”

Prowl’s private office was inside a larger room where the prosecution support team worked. Some were working while others used the court suspension as a break, and Prowl didn’t care. Instead, he collapsed in his office chair and rested until Optimus summoned him back.

Ultra Magnus began. “My client… would like to _change his plea_. In addition, he would like to make a _statement_ to the court and – ”

“Wait,” Optimus cut Ultra Magnus short. “Repeat that, please.”

“My client now asserts that he is innocent of all charges.”

Optimus looked to Megatron, rising from his chair. “You’re pleading not guilty. _You_ are pleading not guilty.”

Ultra Magnus answered for Megatron. “That’s correct, your Honor. He says he’s changed his mind.”

Ultra Magnus kept talking as he read Megatron’s statement to the crowd, and it took all of Prowl’s control to not jump from his location by Prime and throttle the Autobot acting on behalf of the Autobot army’s number one enemy. The nerve of Megatron to change his plea to not guilty, and for Ultra Magnus to be the voice of Megatron’s words as he questions the validity of the court. When he felt a reaction near his spark he remembered his sparkling and did what he could to calm down. It was a hard battle.

Without warning, an explosion along one of the walls rang out and dozens of Decepticons swarmed the arena as debris showered down. It was exactly what Prowl, the military mech, needed to blow off his steam, and the worst thing that could have happened to the stressed carrier.

Prowl saw the two Constructicons rushing to his side, tearing across the Decepticons. However, despite their forceful attacks, they couldn’t move fast enough and a Decepticon attacked Prowl. He pushed back and managed to deliver a high side kick to his attacker’s chin, incapacitating him.

Long Haul and Bonecrusher made it to his side after the attacker fell, which forced Prowl to let them fight for him when they blocked every attempt on his life. He had mixed feelings about being sheltered.

Soon the skirmish ended with Megatron still in custody and Optimus proclaiming, “There will be a brief recess…” as he held an unconscious Decepticon by the helm in his hand. Prowl noted that the attackers looked betrayed as they stared helplessly at their former leader.

Once the situation was fully contained, Optimus, Ultra Magnus, and Prowl gathered in a private room. The three were alone after Prowl shooed out his Constructicon shadows. “No,” he snapped as he pushed the door command to close. He rubbed the corners of his optics as his helm suddenly felt light but he returned his focus to the room.

Ultra Magnus prattled on about the old laws of Luna 2 that his client was invoking, Optimus listening quietly from the console he was leaning against. Eventually Prowl had enough. “It’s a technicality,” he interrupted.

“Yes!” Ultra Magnus snapped. “Precisely! A technical point of law. Which means we can’t just _wave it away_!”

The door flew open and Prowl was halfway to yelling to get out at what he assumed was Long Haul and Bonecrusher, when Starscream and Rattrap stormed into the room instead. Starscream was obviously in a panic as he fussed about what had happened, and Prowl cut him off, too. “Ignore the _terrified Decepticon_ and read my lips: this needn’t be a problem. All we have to do is move Megatron _back_ to Cybertron and start over.”

“Except the trial is already underway,” Ultra Magnus pointed out. “You can’t just – just – _shop around_ for a criminal justice system that’s more _sympathetic_ to your requirements!”

“I think it’s time you remembered which side you’re on.”

Now it was Prime’s turn to step into the conversation. “It’s not about sides anymore. It’s about public perception, and what would happen if we’re seen to flout the law.”

Hearing his Prime side with Ultra Magnus, putting them both on Megatron’s side, made Prowl’s helm swim in a sudden wave of lightheadedness. He missed what Rattrap said. He missed the replies to Starscream’s minion, and he realized he was missing everything.

Prowl tried bringing his attention back to the conversation. Instead, he was suddenly faced with a full view of the floor and pain searing along his chin. Immediately he reached for his chassis, curling his hands under him as if he could feel his sparkling.

“Prowl!”

Blue hands pulled him up and he was sat down where Optimus had previously been sitting. “Prowl, what happened?” Optimus asked as he held Prowl, the others trying to look at Prowl around Prime’s large frame. There were two additional faces peering inside from the door.

Panic spiked across the bond from Long Haul and Bonecrusher, which triggered panic in the rest as the two Constructicons tried entering the cramped room. “Boss, you okay?” Bonecrusher anxiously asked.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” Prowl muttered. “Everyone, just back off.”

Optimus began letting Prowl go only for Prowl to immediately sway. He grabbed him again. “Starscream, Rattrap, please leave. We need to talk to Prowl.”

“If something is wrong with the prosecution of Megatron, I as the high chancellor need to know,” Starscream refused.

“Get out or I’ll bring you with me when I visit Megatron,” Optimus warned.

Starscream blustered at Prime’s words. “I don’t have time for this anyways. Prowl, pull yourself together and do your job.” He tried storming out, only to have the two Constructicons block him with dark glares.

“Let him out,” Prowl ordered.

They obliged, barely stepping aside far enough for Starscream and Rattrap to squeeze through. Prowl said to them, “Now both of you get out.”

“No way, Prowl!” Bonecrusher objected.

“We’re right here for you, Boss,” Long Haul answered.

Prowl growled. “I’m fine, I just had a moment of dizziness. I want to talk about the trial with Optimus and Ultra Magnus. Now _go_ before I get angry.” He used the bond to remind them to not anger him in his current state.

When the door closed after the muttering Constructicons left and it was just the three of them, Optimus slowly let Prowl go. This time Prowl managed to keep upright. He tried to use his spark to prod around itself, something he had never done outside of merging. The sensation was unusual and initially unsuccessful, but then he felt a light response. Relief rushed through him.

“Prowl, what happened?” Optimus insisted.

“I just had a moment of dizziness,” he repeated, his voice now calmer.

Ultra Magnus pressed, “You need to go to a medic and find out why.”

“Later.”

“No, Prowl,” Optimus said as he shook his helm, “You need to do so now. You need to know why, and we need to know if you can continue being the prosecution.”

Prowl pressed his lips. He really didn’t want to say anything, and the truth may not help him. “I already know why, and it’s hasn’t affected me until now. It only affected me now because of this turn of events and the Decepticon attack was a bit… upsetting. Once we find the _right_ solution to this mess I will be fine.”

Optimus carefully watched Prowl. Kindly he asked, “Ultra Magnus, if you would leave Prowl and me alone to talk, I would appreciate that.”

“Alright, Prime…” Magnus reluctantly agreed and left.

Optimus sat down next to Prowl, the console creaking slightly at both their weight. Prowl didn’t care and Optimus didn’t seem to care either. “Prowl, you and I have been friends for a long time.”

Prowl said nothing but had a feeling where this was going. He dreaded it.

“You can tell me anything. Are you okay?”

Prowl’s vents released extra air as he sighed, suddenly deflated from anger leftover. He was getting tired of hiding, and he knew there was no hiding from someone like Prime once he caught onto something. “I’m alright. I just tire easier now, and with everything that’s happened this orn, I suppose that should have been expected.”

“Why do you tire easier?” Optimus prompted.

It was now or never. “I am carrying a sparkling.”

There was no immediate response, but Prowl noted that Optimus’s vents went silent. “How far along are you?”

“I have less than five deca-orns to go before the sparkling descends into my gestation chamber.”

“You should be resting, not working as prosecution.”

Prowl tightly gripped the edge of the console. “I can be the prosecutor during the trial and rest when I’m off duty. That’s what I’ve been doing. I’m not a mech so crippled I can’t stand and talk.”

Optimus was quiet for a few kliks. “I suppose congratulations are in order, regardless of this trial’s next outcome. Was the sparkling planned?”

Prowl dryly chuckled. “Not in the slightest. Despite that, I am looking forward to my sparklings.”

“Sparklings?” Optimus repeated in shock and Prowl scowled at his slip. “You’re having twins? You should definitely be resting instead of working.”

“I’m not having twins, it’s just… well, first I need to say you are the only one outside of my immediate circle I’ve told that I’m carrying, but I should all tell you that I’m not just carrying. I was not sparked until after I had sparked another. Another surprise sparkling.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, unless you are telling me you’re both a sire and a carrier.”

“That is what I’m saying,” Prowl clarified.

“That is a lot to take in; I’ve never heard of such a situation,” Optimus commented. “Who’s the sire for the one you carry, and the carrier for the one you sired?”

“One of the Constructicons sired mine, and we’ve established that it doesn’t matter who did it because they are all sire to me.” He took a deep in-vent and continued, “Jazz is the carrier.”

Optimus’s optics widened and Prowl could see a slightly change in his face mask that suggested his jaw dropped. “Since when have you and Jazz been in a relationship?”

“Define relationship.”

“Don’t be smart with me, Prowl; you know what I mean.”

Might as well just say it all. “We’ve been off and on for about two hundred vorns, although we’ve been close longer than that. We didn’t settle into a romantic relationship until after I was made gestalt. It forced us to have a hard conversation, but in the end, we decided we wanted to try what the war denied us.”

“I see. Well, I suppose there’s not much to say now that we are in a post-war times, except I’m happy that you’ve found love and a family.”

He froze at Prime’s mention of “love,” a word he hadn’t said to anyone and Jazz hadn’t said to him. The Constructicons had once said it before but he told them to keep that to themselves. “Thank you,” he replied rather than further confess the torn feeling inside of him upon realizing he was possibly starting a family without love. Was that an issue for him?

Prime nodded. “We won’t resume court for the remainder of the orn. Go home and rest while I see what can be done.”

* * *

Love was on his mind as he laid on his front in his berth, waiting to hear what the trial’s next decision was to be. Did he love Jazz? Did Jazz love him? What the pit did love even look like? He hadn’t loved anyone since his early pre-war orns in Forensics, or so he adamantly believed. Love hadn’t had a place in his life during the war when he was constantly making hard decisions about where to send other lives, for the sake of improving the army’s chances of winning the war.

There was no more war, however, so what did that mean? Prowl didn’t want to think about love, as the very topic had made him uneasy for countless vorns, but the idea refused to be pushed to the side. Was there anyone he could talk to about this?

Prowl huffed and rolled onto his side. A lifetime of war hadn’t made him any real friends still living – but there was one who he became more-or-less friends with after the war.

He hailed Arcee on his commlink. When she picked up she sounded disorientated. ::What’s up, Prowl?::

::Do you have time to come to my quarters?::

::I just finished my plans,:: she said with a snicker. He suspected it wasn’t a ‘what’ her plans were, but ‘who.’ Not that he cared anymore, for their relationship had become platonic after Prowl became gestalt.

::Come immediately.::

::Don’t forget to use your pleases, Prowl.::

:: _Please_ come immediately.:: His voice was tight and clipped.

::Well certainly! Be a little over five breems.::

He set up his dining area for talking and mentally prepared himself for discussing matters with her. Arcee wasn’t the most skilled talker, but she was his best choice. He hoped she didn’t take it personally that he was this far along in his carry and hadn’t told her.

Soon she knocked and entered. “Hey, Prowl, what’s got you in a talking mood? Ready to stir up trouble after an orn like this one?”

“No, I’ve got more important matters on my mind.” He paused and ruffled his armor a bit before smoothing it down to sit. Since when did his personal life matter more than his professional?

Arcee made a cooing sound. “This must be good,” she mused as she grabbed a seat next to Prowl after he sat down. “What’s got a driven mech like yourself focused on something besides Megatron and the Decepticons’ attack?”

Absently he rubbed his chassis as he thought of an answer and Arcee noticed. “Got a hurt spark? Fragged someone and didn’t go so well afterwards? My, my, Prowl, I didn’t take you as the one to put a frag above work.”

He gritted his dentae. “Stop being crass. Listen to me, this is extremely sensitive. No one is to know beyond those I mention.”

Her expression turned from smug to concern. Arcee scooted a little closer, putting their knees near each other. “Alright, tell me what’s going on,” she sincerely replied.

With no real way of transitioning the conversation, he chose to simply say the truth. “I’m sparked.”

Arcee did a double take, her mouth dropping as she sputtered. “I’m sorry, you’re _what_ now?”

“Sparked. And before I became sparked I sired another sparkling.”

Arcee clenched her fists, but from her bewildered expression he could tell she was trying to get in control of herself more than anything worrisome. “Wow, Prowl, you really do go all out when you do something.”

“This is not the time for jokes, Arcee.”

“Well excuse me if I handle news bombs like that with humor. What am I supposed to say?”

“Of the few who know, they say ‘congratulations,’” he pointed out.

“Oh, right! Congratulations. Didn’t know you wanted a family.”

“I didn’t, but it wasn’t something I ever thought about.” Not entirely true, he realized. There was an exception to that from a long time ago, but he pushed that out of his mind. It wouldn’t do well to undermine his resolve to be a good creator by acknowledging his past failings. That wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

A small, uncertain smile crossed her face. “But you do now…?”

He nodded. “It’s taken some time to adapt, but I want my family.”

“Cool,” she nodded. “So who’s who?”

“The Constructicons are my sparkling’s sire, and Jazz is my other sparkling’s carrier.”

She stared. “All of them are the sire?”

“For all purposes, yes. While only one is the true sire, we don’t know who and we’ve elected to make them all the sire instead of doing the invasive test to find out who.”

“Oh, so not a miracle sparkling.”

“I have two sparklings on the way, and they aren’t twins,” Prowl replied with a drawl.

“Right, my bad,” she excused herself. “How far along are both of you?”

“I’m less than five deca-orns from when the sparkling descends, and Jazz is less than three deca-orns away.”

“Wait, what?!” She punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Prowl snapped, even though the pain was considerably light for a punch from her.

“That’s for going this long without telling me!”

He pointed to his shoulder. “And you wonder why? Anyways, we weren’t planning to tell anyone until it became too obvious to hide.”

Arcee blinked and muttered, “Oh, sorry.” She cleared her vocalizer and continued, “So why tell me now?”

“I had to tell Optimus due to the strain this orn put me through causing me to collapse in front of him. Don’t worry, I’m alright,” he reassured her when he saw an alarmed expression. The sparkling was no more or no less making its presence known. “He said something I hadn’t thought about. For everything that’s happened, Jazz and I have not expressed love to each other.”

“Hang on, you two got yourselves knocked up and you don’t know how you feel about each other?”

“… I’m starting to think I really need to work on finding friends.”

She pouted. “What can I do?”

“Help me figure out how I feel about Jazz, and maybe see if we can figure out what Jazz feels.”

“I’ve got some bad news for you if you want us to figure out Jazz’s feelings. I don’t really know him beyond stories, so if you want to know if he loves you, you’re going to have to ask him directly.”

Prowl groaned and rubbed his optics. “I didn’t want to hear that. I don’t even know how I feel about him.”

“Tell me about him. Tell me something besides the war stories I’ve heard.”

Prowl thought back and began talking, not noticing his small smile form. “He’s charismatic and knows how to always make me feel better, he gets along with my gestalt better than I could’ve hoped for and I know he does it solely for me, and he has a beautiful spark. Sometimes during the war he would see that I was troubled and invite me to his quarters, only to spend the night singing and playing so I could finally get some recharge. He wants nothing but happiness for me.”

His friend nodded and prompted, “What’s it like to hug him?”

The smile unknown to him became shy as he thought about something he didn’t normally give any consideration. “Warm, like for a moment I haven’t spent a lifetime as an instrument of death.”

“And to kiss him?”

“Like the world isn’t my problem for a moment. It’s just him and me.”

She smiled and said, “I’m not expert, but I’ve heard things. Knowing you and what it means to say those words, I’d say that’s love.”

Prowl stared at her and a deep resonating feeling of warmth traveled through his body, starting at his spark. Her words made his energon system grow flush. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I hear the next step is to confess is to the one you love.”

“How?”

Arcee shrugged. “I don’t know, you’ve gotten as far as I know things. I think the organics use flowers when they spill their sparks – hearts – out to one another.”

“There’s no flowers on Cybertron,” he pointed out. “Or any plant nearby.”

Again, she shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you want me to do, role play it?”

The thought of Arcee trying to be romantic with him almost made him balk. “I’ll figure it out on my own, somehow.” Hopefully love could be a part of his family. First he needed to find the nerve to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a not-great day and need some happy comments/kudos/hearts, which is why I posted for a second time within the week. If you have a moment and enjoy this fic so far, please send some my way! Thanks in advance :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got talked into adding a seventeenth chapter in the middle of this fic, but rather than say this is chapter 9/17 instead of 9/16, I’ve made it a question mark because maybe I’ll add an eighteenth too.
> 
> Anyway, new Jazz/Constructicons relationship tag will be added because of the chapter requested multiple times (aka why comments are good, because if enough of you pine for it, I sometimes add it in). If you don’t care for the tag, I’ll let you know in the beginning of the chapter so you can skim/skip it.

The following morning Prowl was summoned by Optimus to his quarters. Optimus didn’t have an office like Prowl, but he wanted to talk privately about the trial. Prowl worried what that meant, to talk without even Ultra Magnus present.

“Come in, Prowl,” Optimus greeted as the large door opened to even larger quarters. Once it was just the two of them Prowl peered around since he had never been in Optimus’s new private quarters. For the condition Cybertron was in, they were almost luxurious.

“Won’t you sit down and have some energon with me? I’m assuming regular energon will be okay.”

“It is,” Prowl accepted the drink as he sat down with Optimus, using a chair almost the right size for his frame. It was a little big but he was mostly able to touch the ground. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to discuss the trial with you.” Optimus hesitated by taking a long sip of energon. “Megatron and I have come to an agreement. He will tell the Decepticons to stand down, and in return I will let him use the _Lost Light_ to find the Knights of Cybertron so that they may try him in court, per the legal proceedings he’s invoked.”

“What?” Prowl yelped, jolting in shock and spilling a few drops on his leg. “You are letting him go free?!”

“Prowl, please calm down. He’s not going free.”

“He’s now in charge of finding his own prosecution on his own schedule while flying about the _universe_! It’s the same thing!”

“I’m not asking for your input,” Optimus informed him. “I’m letting you know what’s happening. You should be glad, you now have time to focus on your family.”

Prowl shot up from his chair. “Don’t twist this on me. This isn’t for my benefit – this is for _his_.”

“It’s for all of us. He’s making his speech later this orn.”

“I won’t attend a mockery of justice,” Prowl spat as he stormed out. He ignored Prime calling him back and ignored Scavenger as he drove back to his quarters. He was too angry right now to deal with anything else.

* * *

Jazz’s quarters were sparse later that morning, with only the original contents of his quarters left behind, such as the couch. The Constructicons weren’t around for the moment, so he took the time to look through his quarters and see if he could find any hiding items to take.

He knew he shouldn’t find anything, but he needed to occupy his mind so he didn’t think about Prowl’s move schedule being up in the air. Last Jazz had heard, yesterorn the trial had taken an unexpected turn with Megatron’s plea change and decision to invoke an old Luna 2 law. Prowl had called him up last night and excused himself as poor company, especially since now he had no idea how long the trial would run.

It was possible that instead of moving in a few orns that Prowl would move into the new place a deca-orn later, but Jazz could see Prowl spending his free orn pouring over legalities to thwart Megatron instead of moving. He hoped he was wrong since he sorely wanted to spend time with Prowl, and to talk about their sparklings. He still hadn’t told Prowl about how he could feel his sparkling, and he hoped Prowl would tell him the same. Jazz placed a hand over his chassis and smile as he felt a happy twinge of energy by his spark. His sparkling was becoming more normal every orn, or so he felt.

While looking under the couch there was a chime at his door. Surprised by the announcement of a visitor, he checked the camera and saw Blurr. He opened the door and greeted, “What’s up, my mech?”

Blurr smiled, and while the bar owner had his usual suave charm about him, Jazz detected concern. “Haven’t heard from you in a while now, and you left early last time because you were sick. Thought I’d check in on you.”

“Aw, thanks, but a quick call would’ve worked fine. You didn’t need to trouble yourself and come out here.”

The ex-racer shrugged. “Felt like catching up over a drink, too.” He held up a bottle and Jazz internally grimaced. He couldn’t drink engex and his quarters were bare of all his things.

“I’d love to but I’m in the middle of some stuff.”

“Like what?”

Jazz sighed. “I guess if I don’t tell you, it’ll make for a weird conversation when you show up to say hi and I’m no longer here. I’m moving.” He stepped back and allowed Blurr inside his quarters.

Blurr walked until he was center of the living room. He curiously asked, “Where are you moving to?”

“Near the edge of town, in an old district.”

“Why?”

He hesitated but saw no use in lying or delaying the truth. “It’s kind of complicated, but I’m moving in with Prowl and his gestalt.”

“ _Why_?” Blurr asked with wide optics. “I mean, I know you once mentioned you and Prowl were a thing, but _moving in together_? And with his gestalt?”

“Yeah…” Jazz sprawled out on the couch as he took a klik to think through his next words. Blurr was his only friend within physical reach, and although his sparkling and he were improving, he could really use a friend while Prowl was under stress. “There’s a lot to it, and I haven’t really told anyone. Sit?”

Blurr obliged and sat on the opposite end of the couch. He nodded at Jazz when he was ready to listen.

“Here’s the deal… Prowl and I are more than a thing, especially now. I’m sparked with his sparkling.” He stopped to let Blurr process that piece of news.

At first Blurr just stared at Jazz’s face. Then his optics traveled to Jazz’s chassis and slowly back to Jazz’s face. “Um, okay, wow. Guess we won’t be drinking, then. Congratulations! When did you start wanting a family?”

“Uh, probably half a deca-orn after I found out I was sparked,” he sheepishly replied. “This wasn’t planned, but we’re happy.”

“Oh! Well, I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Yup, and there’s a bit of a twist to this. I’m carrying his sparkling, and after he sparked me he got sparked himself.” Might as well say everything.

“By who?!”

“By the Constructicons. It’s some sort of gestalt thing and I’m fine with it, and their sparkling is still my sparkling, too.”

Blurr sputtered for a klik but regained his composure. “So wait, you’re having _two_ sparklings, one from each of you?”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re all moving in together, so our sparklings can be raised together. Plus… I sort of need watching over. I’ve been sick because my sparkling has been struggling. It’s been hard,” he admitted.

Blurr shifted and moved closer. “Are you okay? Will he be okay?”

“He’s getting better,” Jazz answered as he chewed his bottom lip. “It’s just I’m still a little scared, you know? I can’t really tell Prowl because I don’t want to worry another carrier, especially one with his stress load, but things have been hard. It’s a little better now that I feel my sparkling more and more, but I’m still scared one orn I won’t.”

“Jazz, I’m sure it’ll be okay. Your sparkling will come out great, and you’ll be a great creator while raising him into a fine mech.”

“I don’t know that, and you don’t know that either! I’ve never taken care of a life form before. I already nearly hurt him, how do I know I’m not going to keep putting him at risk?”

“I know because you’re good at adapting, and I know you’ll adapt and excel at this. You always do. Listen to me,” Blurr called out as he tugged at Jazz’s nearest hand. “You’re a great mech, and you have great mechs in your life. Between you and Prowl, you’ll figure it out in no time. You’ll make it through this carry, and you’ll make through raising your sparklings. Trust in yourself, and trust in the love you and Prowl have for each other, and for your sparklings.”

Jazz felt better at Blurr’s words, although he fleetingly winced at the mention of love between Prowl and him. “You’re a good friend. I feel better already.”

“Thanks, I try.” He hesitantly released Jazz’s hand. “But as a good friend, I have to ask – do you and Prowl love each other?”

“Come again?”

“I saw the way you winced when I said the two of you loved each other.”

“Of course someone as fast as you would catch something as quick as that. I don’t know, mech. Never thought about it. Never thought love was in the stars for me.”

“Bet you didn’t think a family was in the stars for you either,” Blurr pointed out.

Jazz softly chuckled. “I sure didn’t. Prowl and I haven’t talked about that stuff.”

“Love stuff?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t said any feelings and I haven’t put any thought into it. One orn we decided to try a romantic relationship and things were starting to get into a groove when suddenly he was sparked, and then we found out I was actually sparked first, and now… Well, I don’t know,” he lamely explained.

“Well, time to put some thought into it. What about him makes you smile?”

“Uh, just about everything?” Jazz nervously laughed. “Even when he’s being an aft for details, somehow that makes me smile. Nothing makes me smile more than when it’s just the two of us lounging together, all tangled up and his usual need for personal space is gone.”

“Do you always look forward to seeing him? Do you enjoy it when you’re together?”

“Almost always. It takes a really bad mood for me to want to be alone. And even then I still miss him.”

“Any fears about moving in together?”

Jazz thought about his answer. “No,” he replied with wonder. Of everything he’d thought about related to the move, never had he been worried about actually living with Prowl. If anything, his only worry was that they wouldn’t be living together soon enough.

“Sounds like some pretty strong emotions. I think if you think some more about it, you’ll have the right answer,” Blurr confidently nodded.

They were some very strong emotions, now that it was on the forefront of his mind. What was the right answer? “I guess I need to figure out if I want to live together as creators co-raising their sparklings together, or as a real family.”

* * *

“Okay, that’s the last of it,” Bonecrusher called as he moved the last of Prowl’s few heavy boxes.

Prowl had reacted to Optimus’s news by opting to spend Megatron’s speech packing up and moving. He had stunned all of them, Constructicons and Jazz, with the news that he was to move _right now_. Jazz’s things were still in boxes at their new home when the Constructicons rushed over to Prowl. The other carrier arrived a little later, noting he had a guest when Prowl called.

“That’s really it?” Jazz wondered as he walked up beside Prowl.

“I never was interested in enough tangible things to collect them,” Prowl admitted.

“Well, it makes for quick moving, so no complaints here.”

After a final check, the new roommates drove to their future home together. Prowl’s boxes were moved into his room, and Jazz’s were mostly in his own room as well. A few smaller boxes were in the living room area, the few things Jazz was willing to make “public consumption,” as he put it.

Prowl stared at his boxes. It wasn’t that he couldn’t start organizing, but that his spark wasn’t in it because he was so twisted up inside about Megatron that he couldn’t calm down. Perhaps if he visited one room over, Jazz could lighten his mood.

“Care for some help?” Prowl asked Jazz when he entered.

Jazz warmly smiled. “Yeah, that could be fun. You help me, I’ll help you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

After a couple of breems of Prowl asking Jazz for input on where his items went, or Jazz humming a tune as he mused ideas, a thought crossed Prowl’s mind. “Are we supposed to leave space for our sparklings to be in our rooms, besides the recharge crib?”

“Huh, like a play space or something?” Jazz looked around from his spot on the floor. “I don’t know, I just figured all play and meals would be group activities in the common areas.”

“What about their belongings?”

Jazz chewed his lips. “Giant toy box in the living room? I mean, are our sparklings sharing everything or just some things?”

Prowl sat down next to Jazz. “I know neither of our sparklings have descended yet, but we may want to start answering these details now so we can better arrange our living conditions.”

“Yeah, sure, uh…” Jazz looked around. “It’s just that I didn’t want all of this where the Constructicons can touch it. Nothing personal against your gestalt, they just aren’t always so gentle.”

“I can probably move some of my possessions into the common areas and store what you need protected but don’t use,” Prowl suggested. “That will give you space for the sparkling you carry. Speaking of which, how are you? We haven’t talked much in the past few orns.”

“Better!” Jazz beamed. He could finally say everything he wanted. He touched his chassis. “I found out these weird feelings I’ve been having are actually me feeling the sparkling.”

A rare and full smile filled Prowl’s face. “I have started to sense my sparkling as well.”

“Really? What’s it feel like to you? It’s like a touch of happiness that never leaves me, and more.”

“I feel the same,” Prowl replied, excitement creeping into his voice.

Instead of unboxing Jazz’s possessions, the two carriers talked late into the evening about their growing experiences, adding what they thought the feelings they sensed from their sparkling meant for personalities. Their excitement carried on until Hook banged on Jazz’s door.

“Carriers are supposed to recharge, you both know that,” Hook complained through the door. “Especially you, Jazz.”

They looked sheepishly at each other. Jazz asked, “Should we tell them?”

“In the morning. Now that I no longer have a job to perform, the seven of us can fully enjoy our first orn together. I can think of nothing better than talking about our family coming together.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I had to skip a week due to work schedule. Can’t promise maintaining weekly updates going forward, but I’ll try.
> 
> As promised, here is your FYI that it’s a Jazz/Constructicons (with Prowl there) chapter, as requested by multiple people

“Prowl?” Jazz called as he once more knocked on Prowl’s door. More silence greeted him.

After several orns of wrestling with how to address the family question, Jazz couldn’t make up his mind, so he decided to wait and get a feel for it. He promised himself he would address it after sparkling descension, but before he knew it, it was time for his pre-descension appointment. His sparkling was expected to descend into his gestation chamber in one deca-orn, and this appointment was to make sure he was on the right track. Prowl was supposed to accompany him, like he usually did, but he wasn’t answering the door or comms.

A big, green hand appeared in his peripheral vision as it sat on his shoulder. “Let him rest,” Hook said from behind. “I can tell over the bond he’s still recharging.”

“Prowl? Recharging past wake up time?” Jazz wasn’t sure if he should be worried, but he was at least a little concerned.

“We may have worn him out doing our donating last night.”

“Ah, well so long as it’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Trust me, Prowl is fine. You ready for your appointment?” Hook asked.

“Yup,” Jazz said, mentally adding as ready as he could be whenever going to the doctor.

Their trip to Flatline was fairly normal, even without Prowl’s presence. He was worried that Prowl missing meant the conversation would be difficult to maintain, but Hook asked Jazz a lot of questions about the miall and the music it played. The conversation was overall pleasant.

Jazz hoped the same could be said his visit with Flatline, that it was also pleasant, but the heavy look on the doctor’s face after evaluations of his sparkling and gestation chamber suggested otherwise. He knew how to read mechs, including when they were struggling to say something. Normally Jazz would wait it out or use some of his suave to pull it out, but instead his nerves ate at him. “What’s wrong?”

Flatline hesitated a little longer before nodded. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just tell you. After inspecting your sparkling and comparing him to the charts, it’s clear that he’s on the small size. In fact, the charts suggest his size is in the risky category, where he may not have enough energy for descension.”

“What?” The world became muffled as shock swept his systems.

“A sparkling descension uses a lot of energy for the sparkling, and so the sparkling needs a lot of stored energy to make the journey. I’m worried your sparkling doesn’t have enough stored energy, based on the size of his spark.”

“He might die?” _Get to the point_ , Jazz wanted to cry.

“He might disintegrate into uncontained energy, yes.”

One hand came up to his mouth, and then the other hand joined it as Jazz tried not letting his emotional state bleed through. “Is there any chance he can make it?”

“Some chance, but there lies the second problem.”

“There’s _another_ problem?”

“You see…” Flatline faltered. “I know Prowl has been trying to donate nanites, but a carrying creator can’t donate much, if at all. And without another frame donating nanites, it leaves it all up to you. Unfortunately one frame’s donation has rarely been enough, and there’s no exception here. The sparkling frame building inside your gestation chamber is under-formed. The frame may not be ready to accept a spark when your sparkling’s spark descends.”

The medical berth was shaking – no, he was shaking, Jazz realized. So much for not letting his emotional state bleed through.

“There’s still time,” Flatline urged as he reached for Jazz, resting his hands on Jazz’s arms. “If you find a donor for spark energy and nanite, and they donate each at least a few times over the next few orns, your sparkling should be okay within a deca-orn. It’s a tight timeline, I realize, but there is an option. There’s hope.”

He nodded, but his mind was spinning. “I see… I need to go home now.”

“Alright, Jazz, if that’s what you wish,” his doctor reluctantly pulled back. “But if you can’t find someone, please let me know ASAP. Maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Jazz slipped off the berth and faced the door. With a deep in-vent he put his usual mask into place, not ready to tell Hook the outcome of his appointment.

Somehow he made it back without issue, and Jazz sat on the edge of his berth, weighing his options. Maybe ask Blurr to be a donor? The gross feeling in his tank said that was too weird for their friendship, he ultimately decided. Who was left? Please let there be _someone_ left, he begged the universe.

::Jazz?::

The comm message startled him out of his thoughts. ::Hey, Prowl? What are you doing comm’ing me from your room?::

::I’m actually outside your door, but you aren’t acknowledging my knocking.::

::Oh,:: Jazz replied with an embarrassed laugh. He opened the door and Prowl stepped inside, concern evident on his face.

“How was the doctor appointment? I apologize for oversleeping.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“The appointment was fine or me oversleeping is fine?” Prowl asked for clarification.

He paused. Truthfully, he needed support and he decided to be honest with Prowl. “Come sit with me?”

Prowl immediately obliged, and Jazz continued after taking Prowl’s hand. “It seems that while my sparkling has improved a lot, it still may not have been enough. There’s real risk to him when he descends that he – he –”

Jazz pulled his hand away and buried his helm in his hands. Prowl’s upper body was instantly wrapped around Jazz’s in a soothing fashion, his arms around Jazz’s. Jazz cleared his vocalizer and spoke into his hands. “There’s a real chance he’s too small to survive descending. And even if he did, my gestation chamber needs more nanites for frame building.”

“What did Flatline suggest?”

“Fine a donor quick and have him donate as many times as possible, in every way possible.”

“Does anyone come to mind?”

Jazz shook his helm.

“What about Optimus Prime? Surely his spark is very strong.”

He scrunched his face at the suggestion of merging with his leader, and slid his hands away from his face. “I may blend the lines a little with rules and regulations – even with those who outranked me,” he added a soft shoulder butt to Prowl’s shoulder and Prowl chuckled, “but that’s going too far for me.”

“Hmm,” Prowl murmured. He rubbed Jazz’s arms. “You feel very tense. Would another massage from the Constructicons help? They were surprisingly gentle and attentive last time.”

“True, they were… I guess being roommates now and all, that wouldn’t be so weird.” For a split klik Jazz was hesitant, but then as Prowl pointed out, they were kind last time. They had actually been kinder than he expected of them since sparklings became a part of their lives. Even more so since moving in together, and he found he minded them less and less.

Jazz straightened his posture and the pair left his room. The Constructicons were already joining them in the common area, Scavenger looking the most eager. He wasn’t alone, as they all had a level of interest on their faces or in their body language, but Scavenger was the most obvious.

“Prowl?”

“I may have asked them over the bond if anyone was interested in helping with a massage,” Prowl admitted. “To be fair, I didn’t think they’d all say yes and be ready to go.”

“Jazz is family,” Long Haul reminded them. “If a carrier in the family needs a massage, then we’ll all be here to help.”

“Jazz,” Hook spoke as he pulled a dining chair into an open area by the living room, “how about you rest against this chair, sitting backwards? Give us access to your back, shoulders, legs, and whatever else you need.”

That sounded so good, he realized as the aches he was used to feeling suddenly became louder. “Sure, but careful, okay?”

“We’ll be careful,” Hook affirmed.

Mixmaster pulled up a second chair. “Prowl can sit here with you.”

The offer to have Prowl sit next to him as the Constructicons massaged his aching frame helped, and he felt the weight on his shoulders ease. “That’d be good.”

They sat down and Prowl immediately took Jazz’s hand in a soft squeeze. The Constructicons surrounded him and old fears resurfaced when five large looming faces looked down on him. Prowl must have sensed it because he squeezed again and his other hand joined Jazz’s, fully engulfing it. Jazz took a deep in-vent, relaxed his armor as he settled with his free arm across the back of the chair, and rested his chin on it.

Bonecrusher started on Jazz’s shoulders, Scavenger behind on Jazz’s ankle struts, Long Haul and Mixmaster each to the side taking a hip/lower back area, and Hook came around front of Jazz to massage Jazz’s neck cables. At first Jazz was on edge and he tightened his hand being held by Prowl, but the Constructicons paid no heed to his increased tension. They went to work, continuing to be surprisingly delicate for such brute frames. A part of Jazz felt guilty for having them pegged for being too brutish for gentleness not that long ago, that he didn’t trust them with his belongings.

Hooks fingers were so gentle on Jazz’s exposed neck, as were they all. After a breem of soft massages without any negative repercussions, Jazz felt his frame slowly melt into their hands. They were being so kind to him; it was hard not to give into the ministrations of those who were almost friends now. No, they were _family_ , he realized. They were the sires to his sparkling’s half-brother.

Hook quietly asked after Jazz had melted, “You going to tell us what’s got you so twisted? The tension in your frame isn’t healthy for anyone, let alone a carrier.”

Did he dare tell? Perhaps he should offer them a show of solidarity and trust, and let them in on the source of his distress. “It’s about my sparkling.” He stopped when he felt them all stiffen, each returning to their task at different times. Prowl rubbed the back of Jazz’s hand with his thumb.

He continued, “Flatline’s concerned my sparkling is too small for… for…” Once more, speaking about the harsh reality facing him proved almost too much and he put his free hand over his face.

Prowl quietly finished for him, probably to address what was likely worried looks from the Constructicons. “Too small to survive descension. The sparkling’s frame is also under-developed.”

“What are you going to do?” Mixmaster asked.

“I don’t know,” Jazz mumbled into his hand. He took a deep in-vent and then dropped his hand back onto the back of the chair. “I guess I need to find a donor, but I don’t know who.”

Long Haul asked, “Why don’t you know who?”

“Because who am I going to ask to frag into being a donor sire?”

Bonecrusher suggested, “Why not ask someone who’s already a sire, already family?”

Jazz froze, and his optics wandered slowly up to the nearest face, Hook’s face. The crane’s visor was glaring daggers at Bonecrusher, and a slight increase in tightness in Prowl’s hand suggested Prowl was unenthused as well.

Scavenger tried, “What Bonecrusher means is we like you Jazz, and you’re family, and your sparkling is family, and we just want the best for you. You and your sparkling.”

“Yeah, that,” Bonecrusher awkwardly added.

“What – what do you mean you _like_ me?” Jazz wasn’t sure what to make of this turn of events, and he was hyper aware of all the hands frozen on him, including Hook’s still on his neck.

Hook sighed and turned his softened gaze at Jazz. “If we only cared about the sparkling you carried, do you think we would have made media storage spots all over this place for you? Jazz, we’re here for you, we’re massaging _you_. We don’t massage anyone _ever_ , until you and Prowl. And now we’re all here, right now, just for you.”

Prowl restarted rubbing Jazz’s hand with his thumb. “Why don’t you forget your worries and let them continue massaging you? Let’s set aside the donor concerns for now.”

“Uh, sure,” Jazz agreed. He really did need some kinks and knots worked out, and up until the unexpected turn of conversation, Jazz had been steadily relaxing. If he ignored the conversation for now, he could relax while they helped him recover from all his stresses.

Mind made up, he settled back in and let them resume massaging his stiff body. After a half breem, Jazz looked over at Prowl and noted a soft smile. He returned it and teased, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting massage.”

“Pardon me?” Prowl tilted his helm.

“You look so content; it’s making me even more content just looking at you.”

“Funny, the same is true for me.”

“Mmm…” Jazz hummed. He watched Prowl as Prowl’s gestalt eased tension out of his body. Perhaps it wasn’t just the Constructicons easing his woes with their caring touches, but also the caring look Prowl was showing him. Could it be love? Did Prowl love Jazz?

Suddenly a groan escaped him as Mixmaster found a particularly sensitive spot where his hip and lower back armor met. Prowl lightly chuckled. “Something good?”

“Mixmaster really found the spot…”

“Mixmaster, be careful to work that spot,” Prowl ordered, his voice gentler than its usual tone.

“You got it, Boss.”

Jazz nearly shuddered as Mixmaster worked a spot and the rest started finding their own spots to work overly tense areas. Prowl seemed to read his struggles. “It’s okay, Jazz; let go and give into relaxing.”

He almost pointed out that it was amusing to hear Prowl tell him to give into relaxing, but instead he just let his body unfold and armor loosened up more. The Constructicons really weren’t that bad, Jazz decided as he looked at Prowl. This situation was perhaps even good, given how much his unexpected family seemed to care about him.

Belatedly he realized Mixmaster’s touch on that sensitive spot had slowed to almost sensual levels. He found himself not really minding, but instead still enjoying all the caring and helpful touches. Although each Constructicon maintained a cautious touch, each began turning a little less innocent as they played with seams, as best as their large fingers allowed them. Prowl’s caressing touch of his hand stayed with him, and he felt really good.

Over a breem the massage transition to playful touches from Bonecrusher, Mixmaster, and Scavenger, and more sensual touches from Hook and Long Haul. After the breem passed, Jazz realized Long Haul was closer to his face, and he turned to look at the truck. Long Haul held his gaze for a moment, and then slowly leaned in until their forehelms touched, and the Constructicon nuzzled Jazz.

The move was unexpected but Jazz let it happen, feeling too good to oppose the unusual affection. Was it wanted? It wasn’t _un_ wanted, and it definitely wasn’t overly strong, he realized as Long Haul pulled back. A content sigh escaped him, accompanied by a brief flutter in his spark.

A hand touched his cheek, and it guided him back to looking at Hook. The crane leaned in, face to face as his lips came closer. He stopped and hovered so close to Jazz’s face that Jazz could smell the faint scent of cheap polish. Jazz’s lips parted in silent awe at Hook’s wordless request for permission, and then the crane took the lack of resistance as a positive sign. Hook closed the gap and gently kissed Jazz.

It was surreal, considering the kiss was far gentler than he expected a Constructicon to be capable of doing. A tiny sense of nervousness crept into the back of his mind, but at the same time Prowl applied a little extra reassuring pressure to Jazz’s hand and Jazz relaxed, knowing Prowl offered further reassurances of safety.

The kiss wasn’t particularly long, but it last enough for Mixmaster and Bonecrusher to begin kissing his frame, while Scavenger and Long Haul nuzzled him by where they were touching. Prowl never let go of his hand. When Hook released Jazz the rest of the Constructicons hovered over their spots as they paused.

Time ceased moving as Jazz processed what was happening, and a heat flooded his relaxed body as he realized he was getting lavished with attention from several others. Did he want this, he found himself asking again.

As if sensing his uncertainty, Hook guided Jazz to look at Prowl. His partner’s hands crept up Jazz’s arm, as if Prowl was reaching out for him. Prowl’s other hand kept hold of Jazz’s hand. “Relax,” Prowl whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“Okay,” Jazz murmured. He trusted Prowl to help him be in a positive place.

Hook leaned in and kiss Jazz’s cheek, and the rest of the Constructicons picked up where they left off by peppering Jazz’s frame with kisses and nuzzles. The two by his hips, Mixmaster and Long Haul, maintained playful touches. Bonecrusher mouthed where Jazz’s frame curved along his shoulders. Scavenger’s fingers were slowly working their way up one leg, a hand on each side, including just above his inner knee.

When Scavenger reached the inner part of his upper thigh, Jazz suddenly tensed as it finally fully dawned on him where the Constructicons were going with this. Instinctively his hand tightened around Prowl’s.

::You can stop this at any time,:: Prowl comm’ed Jazz with private reassurances. ::But you don’t have to. I’m here for you no matter what.::

The touches from the Constructicons lessened and slowed down, but didn’t let up. They were easing him into this, he realized. Jazz kept his optics on Prowl, his source of comfort. ::I don’t know what I want to do…::

::They’ve reassured me they will treat you like the delicate treasure you are, and if you are willing, they would like to donate so you don’t have to worry about your sparkling anymore. Any one or all of them, it’s entirely up to you. Either way, I will still be here with you.::

::I want you here,:: Jazz agreed.

::I’m not going anywhere; I’m not letting go.::

Jazz rotated his hand so he could curl his fingers around Prowl’s fingers. ::Feels good… and with you here, I think I don’t mind it.::

::Good, keep relaxing into it.::

The touches from the Constructicons became firmer, although they remained cautious as if Jazz really was the delicate treasure Prowl called him. They continued until Jazz’s body was malleable to their touches, until Scavenger’s hands were caressing very close to Jazz’s interface panel.

Long Haul moved, rotating around and carefully he gathered Jazz up from behind while still allowing Prowl to maintain contact with the ex-saboteur. Hook captured Jazz’s mouth again, and they were lip locked until Jazz was laid down on the couch. The medic crawled up on the couch, hovering above Jazz as one of his hands slipped down south.

There was no verbal request for permission, and maybe that was unsurprising of a Constructicon, but Hook’s movements were so slow and Prowl’s caresses to his hand made it clear they thought of Jazz in control. He felt like he was in control, even as his body was beginning to grow aroused in its relaxed state, and his spark quivered.

Scavenger and Bonecrusher each started rubbing a lower leg, barely missing Hook’s legs kneeling between Jazz’s legs, while Long Haul rubbed Jazz’s free arm and Mixmaster began mouthing Jazz’s audio horns. He groaned and then shuddered when Hook’s hand touched his interface panel, right above his valve.

The command requesting for it to open appeared on his HUD, and he ex-vented deeply as he weighed his decisions. He felt so good, but was he ready to go there?

::They won’t hurt you,:: Prowl assured. ::It’s up to you if you want to open your panel or not, but they wish to donate nanites – and spark energy. Even if it’s only Hook you can handle right now. They want to see you feel good, now and later.::

::Later?::

::When you don’t have to worry about your sparkling,:: he clarified. :: They want you to feel pleasure now, and satisfied with your sparkling’s wellbeing later.::

He did feel pleasure now, and would it be so bad if at least one donated nanites and spark energy? Maybe another Constructicon as well, if he was feeling up to the task, if this pleasurable feeling persisted.

His valve cover clicked open. The touch of the air to his warm valve folds sent shivers down his frame.

Hook didn’t immediately dive into Jazz’s valve as he thought the crane would do; instead, Hook touched the mesh just outside the folds and slowly dragged his fingers until they could curl around Jazz’s valve folds. He rubbed along the rimming folds.

::How are you feeling?:: Prowl checked in with Jazz.

::Good,:: he sighed. ::Lips feel a little lonely.::

Prowl came closer until he could give Jazz a chaste kiss. ::Can Mixmaster kiss you?::

Jazz groaned and moved as he was reminded of the warm assault on his audio horns, at the same time Hook’s fingers moved further inward from Jazz’s folds. ::Is he asking or are you asking?::

::I’m asking because I want this to be between you and them, with me here to guide you through it so you never feel uncomfortable.::

::Definitely not uncomfortable. Yeah, Mixmaster can do more than just play with my horns.::

Hook leaned up and Mixmaster’s touch vanished, only for his face to reappear below Hook’s. Mixmaster kissed Jazz, and Hook’s thumb found Jazz’s anterior node.

He shuddered and cried out as all the sensations began to crescendo. Long Haul began tweaking Jazz’s audio horns while Mixmaster, Bonecrusher, and Scavenger stayed in their spots. Hook continued massaging Jazz’s anterior node for several more kliks, and then a large finger began rubbing its way inside Jazz’s valve.

He mewled under their ministrations, as they all touched him and Hook worked his finger inside until it was buried deep. Then he began thrusting and Jazz keened, trying very much to not overload. He barely succeeded.

::Prowl, I don’t think I can take much more of this.::

::Hook may not have the biggest spike, which is one of the reasons he’s above you and not certain others, but he needs to prepare you. If you need to overload, go ahead. You can have as many as you want.::

::I want to not be tired before Hook donates.::

::They can take this as slow as you need, as much time as you need to recover. Do what you need, and keep communicating to me what you need from me or them.::

Jazz tilted his helm slightly, just enough for his optics to look into Prowl’s and Jazz nodded. He returned his attention to the Constructicons, shivering and moaning into Mixmaster’s mouth as Hook started working a second finger inside of him.

When Hook had two fingers inside Jazz and curled them into a caliper, Jazz’s body couldn’t hold back anymore and he overloaded, nearly whiting out. When his awareness returned, albeit a bit unfocused, the Constructicons were all stopped and watching him. Hook’s fingers were still buried inside him, but they were straightened and not pushing extra firm on any calipers.

::Do you want them to continue or wait longer?::

::Guh.::

Prowl chuckled. ::I’ll have them wait until you’re coherent.::

After a half breem his mind came back from being engulfed in the fog of pleasure. ::I’m good.::

Prowl didn’t answer with words; the Constructicons answered for him by resuming their touches and thrusting. Soon Hook was scissoring Jazz’s valve, making it a sopping mess of gushed lubricant from his overload. Jazz could feel it on his thighs.

::Ready for Hook’s spike?::

Jazz answered with a nod, and Mixmaster gave him one last firm kiss before moving out of Hook’s way so the crane could put his arms by Jazz’s helm. Hook’s spike sprang free of his interface panel, and stood at full length, with beading transfluid, right by Jazz’s valve. Jazz’s vents hitched as he thought about how he was about to go beyond “friendly” status with a Constructicon, but then Prowl squeezed his hand and he relaxed. He was safe, and this was what he wanted.

Hook moved inside him slowly, more slowly than he did with his fingers. However, once he was fully seated inside of Jazz, he began to incrementally pick up his pace. Soon Jazz was mewling all over again, his body being lavished upon by four Constructicons and fragged almost lovingly by a fifth one. The needy feeling in his body and the emotional feeling of security had him floating.

::Gonna… soon…::

::Hook will pick up his pace, if that’s what you want.::

::Yeah, want.:: Jazz was almost incoherent again.

Jazz felt Hook shudder as Jazz’s calipers tightened in pre-overload, and then the crane started moving faster. He only got in a handful of fast and hard thrusts before Jazz overloaded, and Hook overloaded with him. Hook almost landed on top of Jazz, but Mixmaster and Bonecrusher caught Hook before he could collapse. With sluggish movements, Hook carefully pulled out. Bonecrusher moved Hook off to the side, and Mixmaster took Hook’s place. The rest of the Constructicons eased off of pleasuring Jazz’s frame.

::Wha?:: Jazz tried asking.

::Hook is a bit out of it, and we can see you’re beginning to fade. If you want spark energy donated now, before you slip into recharge, Mixmaster is offering.::

::‘Kay,:: Jazz mumbled. His chassis armor lazily parted.

Mixmaster leaned in and gave him a kiss before parting his chassis. When Jazz’s chassis fully parted and laid his spark bare, he shivered at the exposure. He needed a spark to comfort his.

The mixer lowered his spark and carefully merged with Jazz, lowering himself just enough for energy donation but not far enough to have detailed memories exchanged. Jazz was relieved; his memories were for Prowl and only Prowl. The respect Mixmaster was showing him gave him another emotional moment, and Jazz let himself swim in the feeling of spark merger. Time stopped mattering and Jazz felt the energy between them grow until it was too much and he overloaded again.

::Recharge, Jazz. We’ll be here for you when you wake and talk.::

Jazz blurrily blinked behind his visor and then nodded. The moment he agreed to Prowl’s suggestion, his recharge protocols triggered and Jazz drifted off to recharge, more content than he’d been in a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

The remaining time past quickly, with all the Constructicons donating twice to exceed Flatline’s minimum requirements, and suddenly Jazz woke up to realizing it was two orns from when his sparkling was expected to descend. Once it descended, the sparkling’s protoform would form around the spark. His gestation chamber had formed what it could without the spark, and now his whole body ached with the feeling of things preparing for descension by shifting between his spark and gestation chambers. It was uncomfortable and itchy as longtime seals began preparing to open, and his fuel pump was now sensitive.

All of that reminded Jazz he hadn’t finished getting things ready for his sparkling (“nesting” the pamphlets called it). Because of that nesting call, his physical ailments didn’t stop Jazz from going on a short outing to stores with Prowl and the Constructicons for finding what they could convert to or inspire as sparkling items. There wasn’t a sparkling store, but that didn’t prevent them from getting creative.

“I think this would be an awesome addition for my new friend,” Jazz said to his sparkling’s sire as he pointed out a minibot table set with playful colors painted on it. Since they were still not making it known about their new family, Jazz and Prowl had agreed to talk in code about their “new friends” instead. The Constructicons were given one duty: take what they were shown and make it reality for what Jazz and Prowl really meant.

“Isn’t that something meant for older friends?” Prowl asked, implying that the sparklings were too young for table sets.

“When’s old enough?”

Prowl paused. Jazz could see the question of when was a sparkling old enough to play games or color at a table set cross Prowl’s face. “Let’s see what the Constructicons can do. I’d rather have it now than try to have one built after it’s needed.”

Jazz grinned and gave Prowl’s hand a thankful squeeze. They continued, knowing they were pressed for time before Hook would nag Jazz into going home to rest. The Constructicons were miffed about the outing before it started, but Jazz had declared it a necessity for preparation before he could no longer transform, and a necessity to his mental health. Prowl persuaded them to see it Jazz’s way.

As excited as Jazz was to make the most of his time away from home, he felt his body become slow and heavy as they were trying to figure out what adult strategy games could be simplified enough for a sparkling. His chassis, so normally contently buzzing with a second light energy, felt constricted with slow and anxious force instead. What was going on with his sparkling?

Jazz pressed his lips and then chewed on the bottom one. “Think I need to rest, and I think I should call Flatline when we get back.”

Prowl’s optics widened. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t know. I just don’t feel so well, but not so bad? Feel like I could use a long and hard nap.”

He nodded and started walking Jazz to the Constructicons waiting outside the small store. Jazz had known Prowl long enough to see the subtle signs of worry in his optics and sensory panels, sitting a little higher and stiffer than normal.

“Hook,” Prowl started as they all turned to Prowl and Jazz, “We’re to get Jazz back and I want you to look him over while he calls Flatline.”

To his credit, Hook only nodded and didn’t snipe about how the trip should have never happened. Everyone drove back in unusual silence, and Jazz was thankful because he was wearing down fast. After transforming at their home’s entrance, he felt more than noticed himself swaying. Hook and Prowl were instantly at his side, while the rest crowded together behind Jazz.

“ _Ngh_ ,” Jazz groaned. “Need recharge.”

“Scavenger, get Jazz some energon,” Hook instructed.

“No,” Jazz shook his helm. “Too nauseous. Just need to rest.”

Prowl and Hook helped Jazz into his berth while the rest made restless noises in the common areas. His sparkling’s sire shut the door and everything became muffled, save Hook’s scanner beeping. Jazz didn’t even want to call Flatline anymore, he felt so tired. “Just need to rest,” he repeated as he slowly squirmed to setting into place.

“Jazz,” Hook began, “what are you feeling?”

“Nauseous, tired, and my chassis feels kind of funny. Like it’s constricted around my spark chamber, but then like a little lower it feels open.”

“Hm, well, my sparkling scanner is giving me results I’ve never seen before.”

“Anything bad?” Jazz was instantly awake and halfway up.

The medic shook his helm. “Nothing is coming back concerning, just different. You seem to be struggling to stay awake, so I’m going to call Flatline and see if he’ll make a house call.”

“Okay.”

When it was just the two of them Prowl helped Jazz settle back into his berth. Jazz could feel his own worry, but the heaviness in his limbs was stronger. “Prowl, I think I need a nap.”

“May I rest with you?”

“Want to watch over me?” Jazz smiled into the pillow with a soft chuckle.

“Yes…”

“Okay, then. I just need some rest and you can wake me when Hook or Flatline come.”

Jazz barely heard Prowl settle in beside Jazz, putting both of them on their sides. He was almost completely in recharge when a sharp pain in his chassis woke him back up with a start. Crying out, he curled up into a ball, hands on his chassis.

“Jazz?!”

“Spark pain!” He tried to uncurl himself, but his muscle cables cramped.

“Hook, get in here now!”

Jazz had a feeling Prowl had both yelled and used the bond to say that. “Owww,” he started as Hook barged into the room, “where’s Flatline?”

“On his way, but this is probably something you’re doing yourself.”

“Why?” Jazz grinded his dentae in pain.

“Explain,” Prowl sharply demanded.

Hook looked grim. “It appears Jazz’s sparkling is starting the descending process early. That’s what Flatline and I think, based on Jazz’s symptoms.”

“It’s too early,” Jazz moaned as he felt sharper pain around his spark. It was like someone was cutting around his spark, cutting something free. “Is it supposed to hurt like the pit?”

Hook helplessly shrugged. “I’ve never had a carrying patient, and Flatline’s only had a few an awfully long time ago. He mentioned that recorded experiences suggest it’s a pretty, ah, pretty unpleasant experience.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jazz snapped. “Ah!” he cried out when the last “cut” was made and he could feel the sparkling completely detach. He could feel the second energy source slowly spiral downward, uncomfortably brushing against his spark and spark chamber.

Jazz thought all his seals for the pathway to his gestation chamber were gone when the passageway opened, but now he could feel the energy of the sparkling dissolving another seal. He cried out and curled up more, barely aware of Prowl trying to hold him.

The sharp pain in his spark chamber radically decreased as the sparkling travelled into the passageway, and then Jazz was uncomfortably reminded of his sensitive fuel pump. He groaned and waited for the sparkling to pass by.

It was less than a breem from when the sparkling detached to when he felt a seal over his gestation chamber dissolve, but it was one of the longest breems of his life. The feeling of the sparkling’s spark implanting in the gestation chamber’s nanite material was bizarre. His systems immediately began settling as the sparkling nestled into the nanites, and Jazz’s systems calmed down until he felt closer to how he felt pre-descension.

“Jazz?”

He realized Prowl was holding his face with one hand while curling the rest of his body as much as he could around Jazz. “Yeah, I’m okay. Holy Primus, that was _not_ like the pamphlets.”

Prowl’s worry was completely naked on the normally stoic mech’s face. “When Flatline is here, we’ll have him examine you for any complications.”

“Sure, but things are starting to be okay again. I’m worried why it happened now, but I think it’s okay. I think he’s okay.” Jazz rubbed his chassis before remembering and rubbing his abdomen. This would be a strange change to become familiar.

* * *

The examination proved that Jazz was overall fine, as was the sparkling. It was unknown why the sparkling descended early, although there were a few unproven theories. Namely the suddenly rush of energy and nanites over-excited the sparkling, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

Despite swearing all attention would be focused on Jazz, Prowl’s focus on Jazz strayed when the grapevine brought him unexpected news three orns later. His intended plan was to storm into Prime’s new office when he knew Prime was there, but his plans were dampened by the two lumbering Constructicons following him. His angry stomping would look like a tantrum next to Bonecrusher and Mixmaster.

Instead, he chose to angrily knock-on Prime’s quarters early in the morning and then call him. “Back off,” he growled to his guardians. They took a half pace step backwards and Prowl growled again, this time in frustration that was all he was going to get.

Optimus answered, ::I’m busy, Prowl.::

::I know why you’re busy and I disagree with it.::

::Which is why no one was supposed to tell you.::

::Well, someone told me and now let me in.:: He kept the anger out of his voice but not out of his next knock.

Prowl could practically hear Prime sigh through the door, and then the door opened. “Stay here,” Prowl ordered as he walked inside the room.

“Hello, Prowl,” Prime wearily greeted from the center of his quarters.

“Prime, you can’t go to Earth,” Prowl wasted no time.

“We have plenty of reasons to go to Earth.”

“Who’s ‘we’? What reasons?” Prowl demanded.

“My team, of which you needn’t concern yourself with. Neither do you need to concern yourself with the reasons.”

“I am your tactician; I need to know everything.”

“You are a carrier – and a sire – first, right now,” Optimus pointed out.

A brief pause. “I can be it all,” Prowl insisted.

“Jazz’s and your sparklings are not emerging on Earth,” Optimus softly refused. “You and Jazz may need the full medical facilities of Cybertron, especially Jazz, if the rumors of his disappearance in the music scene have anything to do with his carry.”

The carrier frowned, his annoyance growing, as was his new nausea. He knew nausea could occur when he became frustrated enough, but he wasn’t willing to completely relinquish the fight. “I can assist through communications.”

Prime sighed. “Prowl, I have a meeting to join. I will talk to you later.”

Prowl positioned himself in front of a door. Surely Prime would not push a carrying mech. “I am not leaving until we discuss this matter, and I am invited to any meetings about this trip.”

“Then it’s a good thing my quarters come with a second door.”

With surprise, Prowl watched Prime turn around and head towards his separate berthroom. Prowl immediately followed him and watched Optimus unlock a back door before slipping out. He didn’t stop and hastily followed him out the door.

Optimus frowned at Prowl sliding through the door just a split klik before he locked it. They were outside the building itself. “I am not taking you to this meeting.”

“And if this meeting has anything to do with your upcoming mission?” Prowl frowned again. “You need me to attend, to make sure all tactical issues have been addressed.”

“I have assistance from others with tactical knowledge.”

“But none of them know tactical matters or you like I do.”

Optimus raised an optical ridge. “Don’t presume to know me so well in this new peaceful world, Prowl. Now, I’m leaving. The entrance back into the building is that way. I trust you can find your way back to your friends,” he commented as he pointed to a far-off door. Before Prowl could fight him some more, Prime transformed and sped away.

Prowl thought of transforming and was almost about to initiate the transformation sequence when a wave of powerful nausea hit him. He put a hand over his mouth and stared at the ground for a moment, focusing on the stillness of it as he fought the nausea off.

His focus remained on the ground until he heard the lightest scratching around him, but before he could react, pain exploded from the back of his helm and the world went dark.


End file.
